


Mad Man

by griseldajane



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Institutions, Molestation, Non-Consensual Touching, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest, Triggers, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griseldajane/pseuds/griseldajane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: </p><p>“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”  ― Kahlil Gibran</p><p> </p><p>  <i>In all the years they spent together, it never occurred to Loki that there might be a time when Thor would not be available to him.  The god of mischief conceals himself, coming and going as he pleases, doing what he wants. </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>That Thor might one day do the same never crossed his mind.</i></p><div class="center">
  <p>*****</p>
</div>When Loki discovers that Thor has seemingly vanished from the nine realms, he uses all the tricks at his disposal to find his missing brother, including teaming up with the Avengers.<p>In the meantime, Thor is pushed past his breaking point and may have forever lost his way. </p><p>A story about love, obsession and the mysteries of the heart and mind. </p><p>Warnings: this story deals with psychological torture and mental illness. Please review all the warning tags before proceeding!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. See Me

**MAD MAN**  
 **\--One: See Me--**

It begins, as many things do, with a surprising piece of blind luck. Chance makes Loki glance up at his muted television set at the exact right moment in time to see a bloodied Captain America on the screen. 

The news report is showing live footage from a remote rural area called Sweetwater, Wyoming, where the Avengers have slain a kind of mutated super creature that escaped from a test facility two states over at a great cost to their team. Loki watches, unblinking, momentarily intrigued by the poor state of his former brother’s comrade.

From facing off against the super soldier himself, Loki knows this mortal is resilient and difficult to unnerve. Seeing him now, though, the Captain looks like a different man entirely. His face grim, streaked with blood and dirt, the Avenger wanders past reporters at the scene as if he just drifted out of Helheim. He climbs into the back of an ambulance after the medics load Iron Man in on a stretcher.

Nearly disguised against Stark’s armor, blood seeps through the joints, dripping from an arm drooping limply over the side of the gurney. Captain America reaches for his dangling hand and rests it against Stark’s armored chest as the ambulance doors swing closed and the vehicle takes off with a screech of sirens and flashing lights. 

The Midgardian news report is the only program Loki ever watches with any regularity, and it’s mostly out of vanity to see his own handiwork in action. Knowing what is going on in this realm helps him plan and plot his moves. It also amuses Loki to see how he is vilified in the press. 

And if he _occasionally_ catches glimpses of Thor alongside the Avengers in nightly news footage, it is not as if he is checking up on him. 

_Thor is not with his comrades now,_ Loki thinks as he surveys the news footage and finds his not-brother absent. 

He’s about to glance away, having already lost interest in the wrecked state of the Avengers team, when a tiny flash of white in the field behind the ambulance draws Loki’s attention.

Though nothing conspicuous, that a mere glint triggers Loki’s recall and he knows what caused the spark-- 

_It is Mjolnir,_ he thinks. Loki puts down his papers and leans towards the screen suddenly rapt by what he sees. 

Silent and shining in the fiery glow of sunset, Mjolnir lays deserted. Well hidden amid the feather grass, no one on Midgard except Loki would notice that gleam of light and know exactly what it is. 

That Loki does not see Thor in the footage rouses a spike of curiosity in him. 

_Peculiar that Thor should depart without Mjolnir at his side,_ he thinks.

He turns up the volume, but the added soundtrack yields no information on Thor's whereabouts, only that the humans do not know exactly what has happened either. 

Thor is careless of many things, but never of his cherished weapon. It strikes Loki as errant that Thor would not take the ancient hammer with him. 

_He only leaves Mjolnir exposed in this way if he cannot lift it,_ Loki thinks.

The camera cuts to the news anchor and a different story comes on screen. Loki blinks, disoriented, but unperturbed, returning his attention to his charts and navigations. 

"It is none of my concern," he says to himself. 

Loki stores that glint of light in the back of his mind and moves on.

It is not until several days later that he catches wind of how the Avengers team was decimated.

The story is broken to him in bold black and white headlines on newsstands, _Avengers Down For Count_ and _Billionaire Stark Comatose._

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Loki shoulders through the crowded New York street. Unbidden images of blood and flashing red lights, of the stress on Captain America’s face, and of Mjolnir lying unattended in that field bereft of its master flash across his mind. Little fragments that have no meaning on their own fall into place like pieces of a misshapen puzzle. 

Thor is a barb trapped under his skin that even when pulled free leaves a memento of scarred flesh in its wake. 

Loki would prefer to forget Thor altogether, but his imprint upon Loki’s life is undeniably profound. In some ways, they are as if carved from the same slab of rock, one a positive, the other a negative shape. One informs the other and neither have as much significance alone. 

As he walks, it occurs to Loki that he has not crossed paths with his former brother in some time-- 

Loki stops short as he realizes, _Not for nearly a year..._

Pedestrians walking behind him grumble as he halts the foot traffic, but Loki pays little attention to the mortals around him. 

This is the longest stretch of time in recent memory that he has not spoken with Thor, not even to trade barbs across a battlefield. 

Loki continues on his way, walking a bit faster as if to get ahead of his thoughts. 

Though his comrades are in poor condition, Thor is _more_ than capable of taking care of himself, and that aside, Loki is _not_ concerned about what happens to that halfwit anyway. 

And yet the small weight of unease coiling in his stomach gives Loki pause and he stops again on his course. A strong sense of dread overtakes him, like a riptide in the ocean, and Loki takes a moment to steady himself against a street lamp. 

The Avengers Tower, a soaring high-rise and monument to Stark’s ego, looms over Midtown like a sentinel. Loki glances up at the tower, knowing exactly which windows belong to the rooms given to Thor. When he looks up at the colossal building, his eyes are always drawn there first, searching for the silhouette he knows so well. 

At night, he has occasionally seen a massive shadow pass across the lighted panes and knew Thor was up there. But lately his rooms have been dark every time Loki has thought to look. 

For the next week, Loki makes a point of observing the tower, and Thor's rooms stay dark. This, of course, does not mean that Thor is not there, or that he is not anything other than alive and well and being his usual foolish self. 

Even so, as the days turn into weeks and Thor continues to be absent, questions start to gnaw at him. 

Loki shakes these inklings from his mind before they become definitive, before he is compelled to seek out their answers. Wanting neither to think of Thor nor examine the sense of foreboding that is blooming inside him, Loki goes about his business as if he is ignorant of the current events, as if New York is not thrumming with rumors of Tony Stark’s death and the Avengers’ devastation. 

But the mind is not a linear thing, and Loki cannot cut Thor and all things associated with him from his consciousness as a knife pares rot from an apple. 

The memory hums in the back of his mind, like a bee weaving in and out as it drifts from flower to flower. Loki bats it away, as if only a momentary irritation until some small thing triggers his memory-- a gleam of light reflecting on a car windshield, the movement of trees bowing in the wind-- and then the sharp edge of remembrance stings him, pulling his attention inward to that moment he spied Mjolnir among the weeds.

Loki can no longer ignore the memory as it spears through him in a hot lick, the concerns he doesn’t want to think about bursting forth-- 

_Does Mjolnir lay abandoned still? Where would that fool travel if not with his precious weapon? Can he not lift it? What has Thor done this time? What has been done_ to _him?_ \-- the questions come until he must allay them. 

Loki wills himself to that plain on the other side of the country where the Avengers last fought with the hope of answering the barrage of questions that have held his mind hostage. 

The landscape of grass-swept terrain is a startling change from the skyscrapers and cement of downtown New York. Here, the air is sweet and warm as it gusts over him, but Loki cannot take pleasure in it. 

Tall strands of yellow grass pad against his legs as Loki treks through the field. A sense of dread grows within him such that he cannot quite shake it. 

_Surely, Mjolnir will not be there all these weeks later,_ he reasons. _This sentimental folly will be my end. I am not Thor’s keeper. I do not care where he has gone._ And yet these thoughts do not deter his steps.

Somewhere nearby a creature is keening, its mournful cry growing louder as he walks.

As Loki crests the hill, the ground slopes downward into a broad valley where he can see the destruction first hand. All around him huge swatches of earth are scraped aside exposing rich dirt underneath the topsoil. Patches of grass are burned away leaving blackened plots of dead earth-- a battlefield in the aftermath. The carnage, left in the wake of a foe Loki cannot imagine, is desolate. 

The sight of a handle poking up through the brush stops Loki cold. _Mjolnir languishes still._

He hesitates and he’s not sure why, does not understand the thrill of nerves knotting his insides. 

_It is foolish to hesitate,_ he decides, and moves closer to the weapon because he is decidedly not a fool. 

There is dried blood in the grooves of the handle. While this is not unexpected of the blunt object of Thor’s might, Loki examines what he knows and cannot help but wonder _whose_ blood this is.

 _It means nothing,_ Loki tells himself, _nothing other than the weapon has seen battle._

The wailing creature has not stopped its lamenting. It grates on Loki’s mind, making him lose focus. Loki twists around, irritated, searching for the damnable beast so he can release it from its misery, but the source of the crying remains a mystery. 

A sudden breeze blows through the field, a strong gale, cold and sharp like his native form. The grass bows around him as if the earth is screaming out, too. The yellow blades beat against the immovable hammer and Loki is struck with the sudden notion that Mjolnir will not ever be moved from this place. 

Gripped wholly by an unshakable suspicion that something here is _horribly_ wrong, Loki takes a quick step backward, shaking the poisonous inkling from his head. He eyes Mjolnir, hears that damnable moaning and acts impulsively. 

He reaches for the handle and when his fingers touch the metal, a shock screams up his arm, stealing the breath from his lungs. Yanking his hand away, Loki’s eyes go wide as he realizes the keening is from no creature, but _Mjolnir_ itself. It weeps for Thor, bemoaning his prolonged absence. 

_Thor would never abandon_ you, _his beloved Mjolnir,_ Loki thinks as he stares down at the weapon. 

And it is then-- because if Mjolnir is grieving, left without instruction by its master-- that Loki understands something terrible has indeed happened to Thor. 

“What trials have you wrought, brother?” Loki whispers to himself. 

Though he will deny holding concern in his heart for the foolish thunder god, Loki must have this answered. 

In all the years they spent together, it never occurred to Loki that there might be a time when Thor would not be available to him. The god of mischief conceals himself, coming and going as he pleases, doing what he wants. 

That _Thor_ might one day do the same never crossed his mind. 

From that breath onward his search for Thor begins in earnest-- though Loki insists it is not out of care that he searches, but instead from a compulsion to salve an irritation. 

It irks him as much as it scares him that Thor has seemingly vanished from the nine realms. _He should not be capable of hiding from me, nor should any power keep him hidden from my sight._

Loki stalks and shadows and hunts, skulking about Yggdrasil, using every method of detection known to him. As each day passes without a trace of Thor, the fetters of concern grow heavier around his limbs.

Another possibility keeps him awake in the small hours of the night, that perhaps the reason Thor has vanished is because Valhalla has claimed him. 

He dismisses this macabre thought as soon as it arises. _Impossible,_ Loki thinks. _Would I not feel his passing as keenly as I would my own?_

When in the eighth week, a summoning incantation outright fails, the sheer burden on Loki’s shoulders causes the first of several emotional lapses in judgement.

In the next breath, Loki is in Stark Tower intervening on Tony Stark as he’s mid-bite into a slice of pizza. Security alarms peal as he sweeps through Stark’s workshop with all the wrath and desperation his fruitless search provoked in him.

More than three months out, Stark is still recovering from the battle. Loki reminds himself that Stark nearly died from the conflict as he watches the mortal man hobble to his feet, leaning heavily on a cane. 

Captain America seems to be staying with Stark while he recuperates, and the Super Soldier is up on his feet, placing himself between Loki and Stark before the angry god reaches him.

Having searched the known universe for Thor and finding not a trace of him, Loki feels desperate and small. Asking these mortals is belittling, but at this point, Loki would rather have answers than pride. 

Still, he straightens in his stance, a dominating figure, as he addresses the pair. In no mood to mince words, Loki demands outright, “Where is Thor?”

The two Avengers share a look that inspires no confidence. Anger and fatigue and frustration rim their eyes red, too. At least Loki is not alone in that. 

“Thor is not here,” the Captain says finally. His eyes turn sympathetic, heralding tidings of sorrow, and for a moment Loki knows true fear. “We don’t know where he is,” the Captain admits. “We can’t find him.”

“You do not _know_ where one of your sheep has wandered?” Loki retorts. “A God such as he does not simply _vanish,”_ he whispers. 

Thor is hidden from friend and foe alike. Little comfort is held in this knowledge. Until this moment, Loki had not realized the hope he’d harbored in his heart that Thor had been secreted away by his comrades and now that it is dashed there is nothing to hold back his alarm. 

Loki turns from the Avengers towards the large windows to hide his distress and he looks out at the spectacular view of the New York skyline. 

Staring across the cityscape, Loki asks, _“Where_ is my brother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, we’ll find out what has happened to Thor. Part two will be twice as long, if not longer. (So it might take me a bit of time, but it will be worth the wait!) 
> 
> Make sure you read the tags so you are not surprised for upcoming content... 
> 
> I hope you liked it and will continue to read future chapters! 
> 
> Thanks everybody :)


	2. Feel Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this point, Thor would welcome a thrashing, for at least that would be an attack he could oppose. Instead, he is given over to white walls and isolation, his defiance is met with apathy, his passion suffocated by indifference. 
> 
> He doesn't know how to fight a battle that's clinical and devoid of fervor. He is beat down, but with calm words and empty touches, with absence and nothingness. How can Thor protect himself from nothing?

 

**MAD MAN**

**\--Two: Feel Me--**

 

 

In lilting impressions of sound and scent and touch, the world slowly comes back to Thor.  An ache spans the length of his skull, the most vicious part lingering just behind his eyes.  It's a solid pain, thick like the trunk of a great oak, and it robs him of thought. 

 

Heat pools around his limbs, just warm enough to be discomforting. An incessant high-pitched sound whirs softly behind him in steady intervals. Thor turns his head away from the noise, his nose pressing into stiff fabric, and what has become known to him as the chemical smell of bleach wafts faintly from it.  

 

When Thor finally opens his eyes, he closes them again almost instantly at the harsh brightness that meets his gaze.  He tries to raise a hand to his face to rub the pain from his brow, but his arms are secured to his sides.  His eyes snap open then, blinking furiously to focus. 

 

Thick leather cuffs encompass his wrists, keeping him tethered to the bedframe.  At the bend of his right arm, there is a tube secured there, slowly dripping a clear fluid from a bag into his body through a slim needle that’s been inserted into his flesh.  His clothing is unfamiliar, made from simple white cotton.

 

That he is bound and captured takes a minute to register, but when it does, panic cuts through the haze around his mind and he jerks in the bed, desperate to break free.  The shrill beeping accelerates as his heart pounds wildly in his chest.  Muscles shaking, he feels weak and his vision spins at the effort.

 

With a shuddering breath, Thor falls back against the bed, exhausted, and he is reminded of his banishment on Midgard when he’d been stripped of his godhood.  

 

When his eyes have finally adjusted to the light, Thor takes in his surroundings.  The room is small and bright and very white, difficult for his tired eyes to look at, and filled with what Thor recognizes as Midgardian healing machines. 

 

Understanding eludes him, like a stag disappearing into the thick woods of Svartalfheim.  His mind cannot find its focus, and that lack of center shoots a spike of alarm through him.   

 

There is little time to dwell on it for a man in a white coat is suddenly at his bedside.  Thor eyes the man with surprise as he was not aware of his approach.  Tall with a shock of white hair, fingers gnarled with age, the man stands with confidence and a look of infinite patience.  His white jacket is sharply pressed. Though his expression is kindly, there is a gleam in his eyes that sends shivers down Thor's spine. 

 

Through genuine effort, Thor manages to speak. 

 

“Where am I?” he asks, his voice raspy.  The words grate painfully across his parched throat, but he must speak them.  “What has happened? Why am I restrained?"

 

The man's smile tightens and his features turn remorseful, though that gleam is still present.  “Be calm, Mr. Blake.  All your questions will be answered in due course,” the man says.  “But rest assured no one here wants to hurt you.”

 

Thor blinks, and the room spins as if it moves of its own volition.   _Blake... that is the name Erik Selvig once gave me._  

 

“My name is Doctor Warren," the man says, “and you’re probably feeling dizzy, maybe a bit nauseous." 

 

"Yes," Thor says. "Have I fallen ill?"  

 

The last time illness had claimed him, Thor had been a young man still, before the innocence of his youth had faded.  Thor remembers Loki’s worried eyes, and cool hand on his brow amidst the fevered dreams that plagued him then.  

 

"It’s a side effect of the sedative," the doctor explains. "We had to sedate you for your safety and ours."  He takes a folder that had been tucked under his arm between his hands. "We know you don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

 

Thor frowns, slowly, trying to process what’s being said to him. “What do you mean _anyone else_?” he asks. "Who have I hurt?"

 

And then Thor remembers _hurt--_ Iron Man plummeting into the earth with a sickening crunch--  Captain America being thrown like a rag doll--   

 

“Tony Stark-- does he live?” Thor asks, trying to sit up, forgetting in his urgency that he is buckled to the bedframe and cannot move more than a few inches.  He’s wrenched back against the mattress and though this weakness is a concern, he’s more worried about his comrades.  “How does the Captain fare? Has the creature been slain?”

 

Sorrow creases the doctor’s brow and Thor gasps, thinking the worst has befallen his friends. 

 

“You don’t remember why you are here,” the doctor says. 

 

With a deepening frown, Thor searches his mind. There are gaps in his memory as wide as Yggdrasil's trunk. Simply put, he does not know how he came to be in this room.  The very last thing he remembers is being in the thick of battle.

 

“Oh, Donald,” the doctor says softly, dropping his head towards the white tile floor.  When he raises his head, the doctor looks Thor straight in the eyes.  

 

“I must be blunt with you.  You are an inpatient at Beaumont Psychiatric Hospital undergoing cognitive treatment,” the doctor says, “because through your illness you killed a young woman named Jane Foster.”

 

_“What?”_  

 

The words are shocking enough to penetrate the thick fog around his mind.  Thor is in no way prepared for such a statement, his mind so far from Jane that he does not recall the last time he thought about her, let alone gazed upon her lovely face.  

 

“Jane Foster is... dead?” Thor asks. "You say that _I_ killed her?"

 

Doctor Warren nods. 

 

Denial and anger and anguish clutch at his heart. Such a thing cannot be true. “No-- not Jane-- No, _I_ could not have-- that does not make _sense--_.”

 

“You didn’t mean to, Donald, of course,” the doctor interrupts.  He steps closer to the bed, his features a show of sympathy. “I'm sorry to be so abrupt with you, but you _must_ listen to me this time, for this is your very last chance before more drastic measures will be taken.”

 

Thor stares at him, distress and confusion stealing any words he might speak.  These contrary details overwhelm him such that he does not know how to process the doctor’s pronouncements.  

 

Though he doesn’t know what cognitive treatment is or why he needs it, he does know as surely as he knows Ragnarok will come one day that he would remember if Jane had been harmed by his hand.  This doctor is mistaken. 

 

“You are suffering from very severe delusions,” Doctor Warren continues. “You seem to think you are Thor, the Norse god of thunder--.”

 

“That is because I _am_ he,”  Thor says.  “Donald Blake is an assumed name given to me by a friend in this realm.”

 

The doctor shakes his head. “No, Donald, no. You are not Thor. There is no such person. You are a man suffering from a severe case of schizophrenia, which has gone untreated all of your life.”  

 

“Midgard has lore about me and my kin, but I am no myth,” Thor says.  This is not the first time the people of Earth have doubted him, but he has never been told he is ill because of it.  “I am Thor of Asgard, a protector of this realm.”

 

“This is exactly the kind of talk that killed Jane Foster,” Doctor Warren says.  “Jane wanted you to be well.  She challenged your delusions. You became agitated and could not cope with the truth.  When Jane refuted your claims as fantasy, you lashed out at her.”

 

“I would never harm Jane,” Thor says, his voice rising in anger.  Yes, he does have a temper at times, but Thor cannot believe these words. It is an impossibility to him that his dear friend Jane has perished by his hand.   

 

Thor has not seen Jane in some time-- he could _not_ have killed her, not even by accident.

 

“You broke her neck,” the doctor counters.  “It was an unfortunate accident, but you killed her all the same because you could not face the reality of your illness.”

 

This mortal man expects him to renounce his identity and accept that he is responsible for the death of a loved one. Thor does not understand why, only that this man is not telling the truth. 

 

 "You lie!” Thor snarls. 

 

The doctor pulls out the file folder tucked under his arm.  He lays it open across Thor’s lap, pausing only to straighten the pages on each side before granting Thor a full view.  

 

“This is her death certificate,” Doctor Warren says.  “This one is from a file photo taken at the morgue.”

 

Though Thor has not spent much time in modern Midgard, he knows what photographs are, he’s even had his picture taken several times before, knows that devices called cameras are always recording somewhere, and there can be no mistake that the woman in the photo is Jane Foster.  

 

Lovely Jane lies dead.

 

Denial tears from his lips. “ _No_ \-- no, it cannot be!” Thor says, shaking his head. “I could not have done this-- not to Jane-- I will not believe such a ridiculous claim!”

 

“If you are Thor, then where is your godly strength?” the doctor asks.  “Where is that legendary hammer of yours? Your lightning?”

 

Helpless, Thor rages against the leather straps holding him down.  Mjolnir is not with him and does not heed his call.  There is no lightning at his fingertips, no weather at his command.  Everything feels muffled as if his mind is wrapped in layers of cotton.  He cannot feel even a twinge of his powerful birthright.  

 

Gritting his teeth as he swallows down his anguish, Thor admits, “I do not know.”

 

“You’ve been here for eight weeks, Donald.  We’ve already explained this to you.”

 

“Do _not_ call me by that name,” Thor shouts. His mind is racing-- he remembers not a day of all those weeks.  “I am _Thor_. Son of Odin.  And I would _never_ hurt Jane,” he insists.

 

“You always say that, but the fact remains that you did,” the doctor explains.  “If you continue to deny your true self, you make her death in vain.  You owe it to _her_ to at least listen to us.  Let us try to help you.  We only want you to be well.  There will not be another chance, Donald.”

 

"You brandish a threat?" Thor asks.  This man claims to be healer, but Thor knows a prison when he sees one.  Thor doesn’t understand what’s going on. 

 

The doctor's mouth thins to a tight line. "No threat, Donald, only some advice. Your case is severe. I have fought for you to protect you from a harsher treatment. If therapy and medication prove to be ineffective, more aggressive treatment methods will be applied.  You must accept what you have done, accept that you have an illness and accept your true identity."

 

For a moment Thor wonders if he truly _has_ lost his mind for _this_ is sheer madness.  Throughout his long life, he’s been tested, taken prisoner, tortured, and faced all manner of adversary, but never has his very _identity_ been challenged.  

 

He is and ever shall be Thor. He cannot fathom that he is _not_.   

 

"You are a fool if you think I will ever believe this!" Thor shouts.  

 

His heart pounds wildly in his chest and his head throbs as he struggles again.  This weakness scares him-- _Why can I not break free? What is this fog in my mind? What does this mean?_

 

“Donald-- Donald, be calm. You’ll hurt yourself,” Doctor Warren says.  

 

When Thor continues to thrash, the doctor injects the bag of clear fluid on a stand beside the bed with a solution, and as the drip reaches his arm, consciousness slips away from him.

 

*****

 

Thor wakes to find himself in a very small, white room.  Not much is inside the room, but everything within is white-- the walls, the ceiling, the floor tiles, the door, the toilet, the sink, the cot, the sheets. There is no window, only a single bulbed light inlaid into the ceiling.  This light is always on.  The only entrance into the room is through the steel door, which is bolted from the outside and does not give no matter how Thor throws himself against it.

 

There’s a slot on this door where meals can be slid through, and a small observation window for various doctors and nurses to look in on him.  He is no longer shackled to the bed, but his wrists are restrained in front of him-- _for his protection,_ they say when the doctor and a nurse comes in to check him.

 

Thor inspects the room for flaws as best he can, looking for ways to escape.  The white tile floor feel cold against his bare feet as he takes quiet steps to carefully maps out his tiny prison.  Soon he finds that this slight activity tires him.  

 

With this weakness encumbering his limbs, he could not break free of the room even if there were opportunity to do so.  Wherever his strength has gone, it is slow in returning to him. 

 

A pall of dread falls over him, the first inkling of despair. Taking stock of his situation-- no strength, no allies, no notion of where he is or why-- Thor admits his plight is very sorry indeed. 

 

Are his teammates searching for him? Have they even survived?  If they have perished it is possible that no one is looking for him. Asgard would hunt for him eventually, but not for a long while yet. It could be months before they realize he's been taken captive. Heimdall might not be able to see him for Thor does not know how his cage has been constructed.  

 

There is nothing he can do except wait. He makes plans to observe and look for opportunity to escape.  Suddenly weary, Thor lies down on the cot to try to rest. 

 

But Thor soon finds that he is not allowed to sleep. Every time he closes his eyes and begins to drift, a nurse will wake him for checks or more medication, which he refuses.  His might may be gone, but he still knows how to use his size to intimidate and the nurses always leave quickly. Doctor Warren will come by to examine him, shining a small light into his eyes, asking him how he feels.

 

Time is lost to him, devoured by the monotony of this white room existence and lack of rest. 

 

Exhaustion is all Thor knows.  His body aches deep in his bones.  Thor has been injured enough times to recognize signs of trauma in his own body.  Fragments of battle surface every once in awhile. Thor struggles to hold onto these memories, but his mind cannot grasp what simply isn’t there. 

 

Thoughts of Jane come to his mind, unbidden.  Sweet, brilliant, caring Jane-- the image of her laying dead haunts him.  His grief for her is like a pool of still water, running silent and deep and very cold.  Jane was the first Midgardian Thor shared a connection with. She was a tiny mortal, but with more enthusiasm and vitality than an Aesir warrior.  

 

Could he have truly harmed her? _Killed_ her even? A pang of agony spears through him at the thought.  

 

“No,” Thor whispers to the empty room.  “I will not believe it.”

*****

 

Some time later, for Thor is no longer certain how time passes, he is seated at a table across from Doctor Warren.  The more Thor knows of him, the less he trusts the doctor.  There is no specific thing that should make Thor distrust him for his words are always very calm and marked with concern for his well being, and yet Thor senses deceit in him.  His serene nature is eerie, a strange and sometimes frightening calm, and actually plunges Thor into a state of vigilance.  Though tall, Doctor Warren is very slight in build, and yet commands the confidence of a man twice his size.  

 

His tie is blue today beneath his crisp white jacket, which was different from the last time Thor saw him so he reasons it must be a different day. 

 

As always the doctor is pressed and put together, a sharp edge against his wavering vision.  

 

Moving around dizzies him.  Being unaccustomed to taking more than a few paces in the confines of his tiny white chamber, it takes several deliberate breaths before the walls stop undulating.  When they do, Thor realizes it is an entirely different room than last time he met with the doctor. There’s a mirror placed into the wall, and though Thor cannot see through the glass, he hears people moving around on the other side, observing him as if he were a criminal in a cell. 

 

“How are you feeling today?” The doctor asks him.  His smile is kind, but it is not mirth that lights his eyes, it is malice. Thor recognizes the malevolent gleam and realizes he is in for a fight. 

 

“I have been better,” Thor replies.

 

“We would like to help you feel better, if you’ll let us,” Doctor Warren says, his comment seeming more a threat than an offer of assistance. 

 

Thor levels his gaze at the doctor.  Words are not Thor’s strong suit and he has learned to say as little as possible when he is at a tactical disadvantage.

 

“Let us begin,” Doctor Warren says.  Thor does not move, nor does he let his glare waver.  He does not like this game, where the objective is hidden and the rules are unclear. 

 

“Tell me your name,” the doctor says.  

 

“You know my name,” Thor replies. He is unshackled today, his hands resting in loose fists against the tabletop.  

 

“Tell me what you think it is,” the doctor says.

 

“My name is Thor of Asgard,” he answers.  "Son of Odin."

 

Doctor Warren doesn’t say anything, he just writes something down on his pad. Thor resists the impulse to crook his straight lines. 

 

“And why are you here?”

 

“I do not know why I am here,” Thor says.  “Not the true reason.”

 

The doctor puts the pen down, taking a moment to line it up neatly against the edge of the pad.    

 

“You are Donald Blake of New Mexico,” the doctor corrects, “and you are here because you killed an innocent young woman as a result of being untreated for schizophrenia."

 

Thor balls his fingers into his palms and closes his eyes in exasperation.   

 

“Do you know what schizophrenia is?” Doctor Warren asks and continues without waiting for a reply.  “It is a mental disorder that makes it hard to tell the difference between what is real and not real.  It is a breakdown in the comprehension of reality, which is often times accompanied by vivid hallucinations.” 

 

“And you believe that I suffer from such a sickness?” Thor asks.  “You cannot expect me to believe that my whole life has been nothing but a delusion.  If I am this Donald Blake as you claim, then why have I no memories of his life?"

 

“There are some hard truths you must face, Donald,” Doctor Warren says. "The first of which is that you have lived in a fantasy world for a very long time.” He leans forward a little as if in confidence with Thor, as if he’s about to divulge a great secret.

 

"I understand why Thor as an entity is so appealing to you,” the doctor begins,  “He's a god, strong and true, a champion of his people, a paragon of virility with unparalleled strength at his disposal-- qualities any man would want. It's very telling that you cast yourself as a hero.”

 

“I am no hero,” Thor says.  “I have wrought my share of wrongs and it is only quite recently that I have come to recognize many of them.”

 

"You imagine yourself alongside a group of heroes then, why is that?" 

 

"It is not imagined,” Thor says.  “You mean The Avengers-- they are my shield brothers and sisters. We protect the realm."

 

"No, Donald.  You imagine yourself among a group of heroes because you have guilt over what you have done to Jane Foster and want to make reparations.  It is no coincidence that you first imagined meeting the Avengers _after_ you killed Jane.  That delusion did not appear simultaneously with your knowing Jane-- you had no need for heroes before you killed her.”

 

Thor’s mind races as the doctor’s words sink in.  It is true that the Avengers came into his life after he met Jane and that he hadn’t seen Jane since then, but this is not proof of anything, is it?

 

“I did _not_ kill Jane,” Thor insists.  “Stop saying that!” 

 

"Do you need to see her morgue photos again? The bruises on her skin are a perfect match to your handshape,” the doctor says, his voice with a hint of edge.  “The fact remains that if it weren't for _you_ , Jane Foster would still be alive.   _You_ endangered her. If she had never known _you_ , she’d be researching in a lab somewhere, safe and happy.” 

 

“That may be true,” Thor admits.  Knowing him had not made Jane’s world any safer.  "But I could never have hurt her with my own hand.  Erik Selvig will attest to--."

 

"Do you think Erik Selvig wants anything to do with the man who killed a close friend of his, someone who may as well have been his daughter?” Doctor Warren interrupts.  

 

Thor shakes his head in both frustration and disbelief. This man knows accurate details of his life on Midgard-- his friendship with Jane and Erik, his association with the Avengers-- but there are falsehoods mixed in with the truth, and Thor starts to understand that this is not simply a case of mistaken identity-- the doctor really believes Thor is ill. 

 

“You are lonely. You have no family, few friends and you yearn for affection," the doctor continues.  “It’s only natural to want these things. It’s human. But you must find them in the _real_ world.” 

 

Thor looks up suddenly.  “But I _do_ have family. You’ve _seen_ him," Thor says. “What of my brother, Loki? You cannot deny his existence. He waged war on this realm! He leveled half of New York City.”

 

For the first time, Thor feels that he’s gaining ground.  His identity _can_ be proven-- through Loki and his actions against Midgard. 

 

“Donald,” the doctor says with a compassionate smile, “you don’t have a brother.  No city could have been destroyed by his hand for he does not exist. You are not a god. You are not a warrior.  You are not a brother. You are not who you think you are.” 

 

Anger rises up in Thor, burning through the haze of fatigue.  Denouncement and censure, he can bear. But to think that Loki has _never_ _lived_ spears his heart with agony.  His brother harbors hatred for him now, yes, though Thor has hope that one day they might reconcile. He would not have that hope snuffed out. 

 

“Yes, I _am_ ,” Thor growls.  “Loki may not be of my blood, but he is my kin-- my _dearest_ kin. I am his brother as sure as my heart beats." It is barely tolerable when Loki renounces their kinship, and Thor will not abide it from anyone else.

 

“Loki is a _delusion_ ,” the doctor says sternly, “Perhaps your greatest and most convincing delusion, but he is, nevertheless, a fabrication, the result of a deeply disturbed mind.”

 

“Stop saying that,” Thor says. “That’s _not_ true.”

 

“The one you call brother does not exist, not now, not ever.”

 

_“Liar!”_ Thor shouts, his anger causing him to rise and slam his fists against the table. 

 

The table splinters under his force and the doctor jumps back.  Before Thor can really register what’s happening, the door bursts open and four orderlies descend upon him.  He does his best to fend them off, but a cloth doused with a sweet-smelling liquid is forced over his nose and mouth and the world blurs into blackness.

 

*****

 

 

He wakes in the white room again.  Thor hates the white room.  

 

He tries to make himself sleep, knowing that he should rest while he can, but they disturb him at least once an hour and he cannot find peace.  

 

Thor is never allowed to sleep for more than ten minutes before someone wakes him.  With his mind exhausted, Thor has lost all track of time, but this cycle seems to go on for days on end.  The monotony is punctuated by sessions with Doctor Warren, who always tells him the same thing: _he is not Thor, he is not a warrior, he is not a brother._

 

These assertions are not true... _They can't be._

 

As uncertainty begins to poison his heart, Thor thinks about Asgard and all its shining wonder, about his mother and father, about his... Loki. Of _course_ they are real. Thor's memory is long and spans longer than all the lives of the mortals keeping him here.

 

The staff is cordial, but they keep their distance.  The nurses try to give him pills for his sanity. Thor refuses to take them.  He’s been held down a few times and injected with something for his own good they say, but he can tell they do not enjoy forcing him. They’d rather he cooperate. 

 

Thor will not be a party to his own captivity. 

 

Next they try drugging his food. Thor tastes it immediately and refuses to eat the rations they bring him-- but it is difficult to refuse the water.  Everything they give him is laced with the medication they insist he needs and the water is not any different.  The sink in the room doesn’t work and there’s not any water in the toilet tank, no other viable options for hydration are presented to him.

 

Days turn into weeks and Thor does not eat or drink or sleep.  An Aesir is durable and can last a long time deprived of nourishment and rest, but with temptation so near it is a test Thor cannot pass. 

 

Exhausted, his mouth parched from the unrelenting heat that builds inside of the small room from the constant blaze of the light fixtures, Thor can no longer ignore his thirst.  He feels a husk of himself, dried up and withering in the heat, laying in his own sweat and grime, his skin flushed and dehydrated, aching against the stiff sheets.  

 

A glass of water sits on the small side table every day and this day he reaches for it. It is water, but it is tainted with poison that makes his thoughts spin and his consciousness waver. 

 

Thor raises the glass to his lips and pauses. “I’m not mad,” he says to himself.  "I am Thor... I am Thor of Asgard."

 

Of all the things he is unsure of in his life, he can not doubt his existence.  Or Loki's for that matter. It would be the same as saying that the sun is not real, or that the moon is a fiction.  

 

He intends to take only a sip, but as soon as the water touches his lips, he’s greedily swallowing the entire glass in one steady pull.

 

They bring him another and he drinks it, and another and he drinks that too.  He can’t stop himself.  Weeks without water in this hot, white room and he is so thirsty.

 

Thor lays on the bed, his head reeling and he is ashamed that he let his need for water overcome him.  Thor does not feel right and has not since waking in this place.  Each day, he grows weaker and does not know why.  A small hope lives in his heart that his frailty stems from their drugs and not from a failing within himself. 

 

Doubt creeps into his thoughts like a vine creeping up the side of a fence.  Thor is not stupid, but he is honest and straightforward in nature and mind games do not come easily to him. 

 

He thinks of Loki then, who excels at warfare of the mind, and he smiles despite his misery. 

 

"Brother, I wish you were here," Thor whispers. "You would laugh at my predicament and call me fool, but you would understand what to do."

 

Thor stares up at the ceiling. The light bulb is always on. The small room fills with heat. 

 

*****

 

Thor turns into the bend of his arm, trying to shield the never-ending light from his tired eyes.  They burn, and if he had a mirror to look in he’d guess they were bloodshot.  The heat in the white room is unbearable now.  By his count, although Thor cannot be certain, he’s been in captivity at least four months now, perhaps longer. 

 

_If Loki were here,_ Thor muses, _he’d be whining and stripping down to his undergarments._  His brother never was very tolerable of extreme heat.  There were summers on Asgard that left his poor brother miserable for weeks.  Thor smiles faintly as he thinks on it, letting himself drift. 

 

An orderly enters his room explaining he is to get ready for a session with the doctor. 

 

Doctor Warren likes things neat. His in-patients are to be well-kept, and on days when Thor is to have a session with him, he is groomed-- bathed, clean shaven, hair trimmed, fresh hospital issued clothes.  Though it wounds the remains of his dignity to be so handled, Thor finds some relief in this small respite even though it means facing Doctor Warren.  

 

The orderly is attending him when there's a loud commotion down the hall followed by screaming. Such a thing is not uncommon on his floor, for there are many ill people on the ward who often cry out and have fits of temper, but these disturbances are not tolerated for more than a few minutes. 

 

This outburst sounds uncommonly dire, and the orderly leaves Thor’s room in haste.  The door doesn't quite shut all the way, yawing back towards him, a gaping mouth to freedom.  Thor sees the small gap and is through it into the corridor before he really thinks about it. 

 

The hospital is large, bland colored walls and tile floors, and every hallway looks the same, so he chooses to go in the direction opposite of the noise.  There are dozens of doors, some of them closed, some open, and Thor is shocked to peer into the open rooms, and see other patients simply sitting on their beds, not trying to escape. 

 

_Perhaps there are sick people here too_ , Thor thinks, _those who would voluntarily stay to be well again._ He is not one of them. 

 

An exit sign blazes red above the door at the end of the hallway, but it is near the nurses station.  Though his reflexes are slow to his command, Thor uses all his years of training to slip past unnoticed.  All he can hear is the _thump-thump_ of his pounding heart rushing in his ears.  His vision swims, but Thor presses on, knowing this opportunity will not come again. 

 

The exit doors are straight ahead and lead to a stairwell. He’s almost off the ward, hope rises inside him, but when he reaches the door, it will not budge.  The handle will not turn.  An electronic padlock glows red at him, denying him entry.  

 

He _must_ make it through.  Desperation lends Thor strength.  He rams the door with his shoulder again and again.  He's nearly got the door off the hinges when several members of the staff converge upon him.  An orderly charges at him, but Thor pivots and uses his own momentum against him, flipping the man over his shoulder.  The badge clipped to his waistband clacks against the tile floor and Thor makes a grab for it, pulling the card towards the electronic reader, knowing it is the key to his freedom. 

 

Something smashes against the side of his head before the door unlocks.  Thor falls to his knees, and before he can get up again, a wet cloth is forced over his nose and mouth, the vapors causing the world to go hazy. 

 

*****

 

There's a large carafe of water and a bed pan waiting for him inside the room. Thor doesn't know just then that he is to be sealed inside with no human contact. 

 

Doctor Warren is as close to furious as Thor has ever seen him, his neat lines all askew. 

 

At this point, Thor would welcome a thrashing, for at least that would be an attack he could oppose. Instead, he is given over to white walls and isolation, his defiance is met with apathy, his passion suffocated by indifference. 

 

He doesn't know how to fight a battle that's clinical and devoid of fervor. He is beat down, but with calm words and empty touches, with absence and nothingness. How can Thor protect himself from nothing? 

 

Before he understands how, Thor fears it will be too late. Nothing is already creeping upon his skin like a shiver. He needs companionship and the touch of another.  To live without is not to live, but to exist, and to simply exist is not enough for Thor.  In a place such as this, his soul is dying.

 

There is no reason to leave the cot he lays on, so he stays recumbent. Thor pretends he's conserving his strength and waiting for a course of action to present itself, when instead his optimism is failing him, swallowed whole by this white void. 

 

Something odd is happening to him in his isolation-- his fears become magnified and for the first time Thor begins to believe there _is_ something really wrong with him.  Loneliness wraps around him like a cloak and his want for affection has never been more profound.  Frustration yields to depression in a gradual slide. It is like a wound left untreated, hemorrhaging for months and months until there is no life left within him.  Despair sinks its hooks into his flesh, and by the end of a fortnight in isolation, Thor wonders about mortal men and their mental faculties and if one really could manufacture an entire life to escape the horrors of his real one.  

 

There is nothing to do in his solitary confinement except think and rest, and so Thor tries to catch up on the sleep he so desperately needs.  

 

He dreams of water pressing in on him from all sides, oppressive and indiscriminate. The shape of his parents waver through the water’s surface.  Struggling to emerge from the depths, Thor can only watch as they turn their backs to him, and he sinks further below.  The last thing he sees is Loki walking along the water’s surface.  His brother looks down into the waves, but does not see him.  Thor opens his mouth to scream to him and water pours down his throat, choking the air from him at last--

 

Terror wakes Thor suddenly, and somehow it is so much worse to wake from a bad dream into a real life nightmare than it is to drown when he sleeps.  There is no escape, no place that Thor might find peace, even within himself. It is the cruelest of tricks that when he is finally undisturbed his own mind will not let him rest. 

 

Instead, he daydreams about his life, holding onto the memories others would have him relinquish, and his thoughts always slide back to Loki and their childhood together when Loki was playful with his mischief, when he still looked upon Thor with loving eyes. Thor would give anything to hear Loki’s voice once more, to hold his brother close to his chest and have his arms around him in return.  In their youth, something was developing between them, a kinship eclipsing brotherhood, but that fateful day of his coronation razed everything that had bloomed. Loki is evasive now, like trying to catch wind between his hands, and the harder Thor tries to hold onto him, the more he resists him.

 

It is a difficult thing, letting him go, especially when Thor would hold Loki more intimately than all others if he were permitted to.  But this, he is not allowed, neither by Loki nor by the laws of his people.  Thor has never admitted this, neither to himself nor anyone else.  Now though, on the edge of sanity, when his loss of self appears imminent, it seems such a small sin to confess the full breadth of his love for his brother, that it would be of no consequence if not for the fact that Loki would never have him. 

 

In the confines of his mind, though, Thor does not have to relinquish him, and so he holds fast to his brother, burying his face in the memory of his dark hair.

 

*****

 

Sometimes, when Thor regains consciousness after succumbing to exhaustion, his water supply is replenished and bedpan is emptied, but he has had no human contact during the length of his solitary confinement.  

 

It is difficult to count the days, but Thor feels he’s spent several months subsisting in his solitary white prison.  His body is as weak as it has ever been, for even he needs food, natural sleep and sunlight to survive.  He thinks now that he will die in here, alone and forgotten in his own filth, without even the comfort of knowing Valhalla is waiting for him.   

 

The first person he sees is Doctor Warren. And to his utter shame, Thor feels relief bleed inside him.  His need for companionship outweighs any anger he holds towards his captor. He sits up, giving his first visitor his full attention. 

 

Looking deeply disappointed, Doctor Warren stands before the cot like a stone figure, impassive and still.  He doesn't say anything at first.  There’s a glass of water in his hand and Thor watches as the doctor takes a leisurely sip.  Though he was careful with rationing his meager supply, Thor ran out of water a long time ago and his thirst is once again monstrous.   

 

"You put yourself at great risk," Doctor Warren says finally.  “I am willing to forgive you, but you must meet me halfway.” 

 

The doctor steps forward with the water. The glass is filled with clean, uncontaminated water and the Doctor is offering it to him.  

 

He’s poised to let Thor drink from his cup, but pauses just shy of giving it to him.

 

“I will give you this water and all the water you can drink free of medicine,” the doctor says.  He holds out his hand, palm upward and presents Thor with five small, white pills.  

 

“But you must willingly take this medication right now and every day hereafter,” Doctor Warren says.

 

Thor stares at the tiny tablets resting in Doctor Warren’s palm and marvels that such small things could fill him with dread. 

 

“Donald, we’re only trying to help you,” Doctor Warren says.  “Aren’t you tired of all of this?”

 

“Yes,” Thor admits in a whisper.  A thousand years of sleep would not satisfy his fatigue.   

 

“If you start taking your medication willingly, then we can see about moving you to a normal room,” the doctor says.  “One with a window and a real bed.” 

 

Thor says nothing.  He would like a window and a real bed, but not at so high a cost.

 

“Admit that you have committed wrongdoings against an innocent woman and against yourself,” Doctor Warren says.  “Admitting that you are destructive is the first step to recovery from that very behavior.” 

 

These pills will damn him, but is it a faster road to his destruction to take them than it is to continue on in this white void?  Thor is unsure which is the lesser evil. 

 

“I know you are trying to outwait us,” the doctor says, “but you cannot possibly think we will tire before you.” 

 

“I have lived a long time,” Thor says.  “More than thirty of your generations.” 

 

“Donald, you have not lived for hundreds of years,” the doctor says.  “Can’t you hear how outrageous that sounds?” 

 

“I am the last sane man in a world gone mad,” Thor whispers.

 

The doctor suddenly moves to the cot, and sitting next to Thor, he leans into his personal space.  Thor tilts back a little, flustered by this sudden violation.  

 

This is new. The doctor is always careful around him, always keeping a professional distance. He's only touched Thor a handful of times and he doesn't this time either, but he's as close as he's ever been. 

 

“What if we humor you for a moment, Donald,” the doctor says.  “What if we imagine, just for a moment, that you _are_ Thor.”

 

Thor’s heart pounds suddenly.  This man is like a viper, compressing in its coils, waiting for its prey to show its underbelly before pouncing with a venomous strike.

 

“So here you are, _God of Thunder_ \-- why has no one come for you?” the doctor says.  “Why has the son of Odin been forgotten in a place such as this?  Doesn’t the Allfather see _all_ the realms upon his throne? Why haven’t these Avengers come for their comrade Thor?”

 

Thor has no answers for these questions.  He’s wondered where the gatekeeper has been focusing his gaze, where his father has been looking during his long captivity, and why haven’t his friends at least come for him?

 

_They may be injured,_ Thor supplies, _or killed.  No one must know where I am, but surely those left are looking..._

 

As for Odin, Thor has no excuse. He cannot imagine that his father has not noticed his absence by now. Perhaps he cannot see him. Perhaps there are more pressing matters for Asgard than the recovery of its crown prince.  Perhaps Odin is teaching Thor another lesson.

 

_Allfather, what have I done to be so forsaken?_ Thor thinks.   

 

“If you are Thor, then you have been forgotten by your people-- abandoned by your friends,” as if reading his mind, the doctor asks, “What could you have done to garner such disregard?”

 

Thor schools his features not to betray the seed of fear that suddenly sprouts up through his ribcage like a destructive weed, but his honest eyes betray him, they reveal all that he thinks.  He is not clever in deception like Loki is, even to save himself pain.

 

Thor knows that the doctor sees his fear.  

 

“It is good then,” the doctors continues, “that you are not Thor, that Thor is only a mask of guilt and shame. You are Donald Blake of New Mexico and you are very sick.”

 

Doctor Warren holds up the pills to Thor’s lips.  “Take them and you will be welcomed back into the fold.”

 

Thor closes his eyes. He wants desperately to leave this hellish solitary existence and he thinks, _I cannot be more damned than I already am_ , and takes the pills into his mouth.

 

The doctor guides the glass to his lips, letting him drink slowly.

 

“Very good, Donald,” he says and runs his palm over Thor’s head.  His touch is affectionate and gentle, and Thor thinks he might weep for the relief it brings him to have another touch him with tenderness after going without for so long.  

 

Doctor Warren continues to pet him and murmur encouragements until the pills run their course and Thor loses consciousness.  

 

 

 

*****

 

“What is your name?”

 

Thor knows what he's supposed to say. “My name is Donald Blake.”

 

“And why are you here?” 

 

He knows the answer to this one to. “Because I am sick," he says. 

 

“And why else?”

 

He still has trouble with this part. “I... killed Jane Foster.” 

 

"Do you have a brother?"

 

_This question._ He knows the answer that will spare him, but the traitorous words will never pass his lips. Thor will demean and debase himself, but he cannot deny his brother. 

 

"Yes."

 

*****

 

Sharp, deep stabs of agony riddle his chest-- physical pain with no apparent cause-- coming and going suddenly with no warning.  The water from Thor’s nightmares presses down on him in reality now, and lately there are moments when he cannot take a breath.  

 

He drowns in no water. Standing still with his mouth open, he clutches his arms against his chest as if to push down the alarm that surrounds him, until the choking sensation subsides and he can breathe again.  These spells come upon him at random times that he can in no way prepare for.   

 

Sometimes, Thor wakes on the floor, his head throbbing from the impact against the white tile.

 

They adjust his dosage, more of this, less of that-- Thor does not care. None of it matters anymore, and none of it helps against the attacks of panic he now suffers.

 

Doctor Warren is worried, though he does not say this and his calm never lapses, Thor can tell, for he spends more time with him than ever before. He checks Thor's pulse regularly, frowning while he does, marking something in the neat columns of his chart.

 

"You need to eat more, Donald," the doctor chastises. 

 

Thor nods obediently, but knows it is a fruitless endeavor.  Food has no taste to him, brings him no pleasure.  He can barely keep anything down anyway for his disgust with himself. 

 

As promised, Doctor Warren has him moved to a new room.  It's still white and there is no window, but there's a real bed with a mattress and a small mirror above a two drawer dresser. He stares at it and thinks it odd. Thor has no possessions, no clothing to put in these drawers and he would rather his life cease than stay long enough to acquire anything in this place. 

 

His new room is an act of mercy that comes too late. When Thor catches sight of himself in the mirror he freezes. There is a stranger looking back at him. 

 

He’s clean shaven and his hair has been shorn close to his scalp, a style befitting his disgrace. What’s most unsettling is the amount of weight he’s lost and his ashen skin divulges his poor condition to all who would gaze at him. He is fading, dying a little bit each day just like a mortal man. 

 

He laughs a little at the thought, a mirthless chuckle-- _Maybe I am Donald Blake,_ he thinks. And it is the funniest thing he has thought of in a year, the best punch line this joke of an existence could have.

 

Laughing until his chest hurts, until he can’t breathe, Thor sinks to the floor, his face red and streaked with tears. 

 

It feels a year that he’s been awake, since he’s had true _rest_. His mind is broken and he cannot think, he cannot even daydream anymore-- Asgard is too distant to see, his parents have faded-- and so he just keeps one image in mind, one name to cling to when all else is lost, and he repeats it over and over again like a mantra.  

 

_Loki,_ he thinks as he presses his forehead to the floor and waits for consciousness to leave him. _Loki. Loki. Loki..._

 

*****

 

He wakes a long time later to an incessant beeping.  Weakened as he is, his strength has long since left him, and he lays unrestrained to the bed.  There’s a tube pinned into his forearm again and liquid slowly drips down into him from a bag held by a pole next to the bed.  He’s come full circle. 

 

This is why he has not died. They keep him alive and under control with a mix of medicine and nutrients.

 

Thor lifts his hand towards the tube, meaning to pull the line out, when a voice startles him.

 

“I can’t help you anymore,” Doctor Warren says. He’s standing beside the bed and takes Thor’s outstretched hand and rests it back along the mattress.  “But you _can_ help yourself,” he says.

 

Thor frowns. He can’t do anything, let alone help himself. 

 

“You are in pain because you refuse to let go of your fantasies,” the doctor explains.  “You don’t need them anymore, Donald.  You feel bad and confused all the time, but you don’t have to feel this way.  Your guilt can be absolved.  Embrace who you truly are and it will all be over.”  

 

“Who am I?” Thor whispers. “What am I supposed to do?”

 

“I think you know the answer already,” the doctor says.  

 

_No,_ Thor thinks.   _No, everything is wrong._  Thor shakes his head and the doctor pats his shoulder.  

 

“You rest, Donald,” he says.  “Once you have rested you will see that you can choose good if you want it.”  The doctor leaves the room and when the door clicks closed behind him, it is as if he takes the breathable air with him.  Suffocated and trapped, Thor is left alone again. 

 

Throwing back the sheets, Thor stumbles from the bed, tearing the tube from his arm so he can move around the room.  He cannot sit still, not when he's falling apart. 

 

Thor feels he’s on the edge of hysteria, a place he never thought he’d rightly be.  Lately, his days are spent trying to remember, knowing it is only a matter of time before his fractured mind comes apart completely.  

 

He’ll grasp a whisp of thought and hold it tightly for a moment before it slips through the cracks in his wrecked mind, and then there will be nothing where something precious was once held.  

 

Naught remains but the panicked knowledge that he’s just lost a part of himself he will never get back.  

 

He yearns for something to help him hold on to his very being, but there is nothing to grasp in his white prison.  Thor spies the blank canvass of his flesh and is struck by his last chance to keep something of himself.  Frantically, Thor scrabbles across the room in pursuit of something sharp, quickly while the thought is still there.  

 

With much effort, he smashes the small mirror above the dresser and plies a sharp fragment to his skin.  He drags the glass across the inside of his left forearm, near the joint of his elbow and watches as red wells up and runs over his skin.  Blood spills on his white pants, slicks the white floor tiles, and Thor grins, comforted that the red is not swallowed up by all this white.   

 

Pain whets his mind, and heartened, he continues with his self appointed task, scoring the lines of a rune over and over again, until the the grooves are deep in his flesh, until black spots pepper his vision, until the nurse comes to check on him and screams down the hall. 

 

*****

 

He wakes briefly amid a drug induced haze to find himself strapped down into a new bed, with a nurse sitting by his bedside, reading.  Gazing down at his bandaged arm, he wonders what happened and cannot remember beyond a flash of pain mixed with hope.  His eyes fall shut and he falls into medicated sleep. 

 

*****

 

Something’s different today, he thinks. There’s something nagging at him, something he’s supposed to remember but it’s so distant now.  

 

He forgets. 

 

“How do you feel today, Donald?” the doctor asks.  “We’ve been worried about you.” 

 

“Fine,” he says.  He absently clutches at his arm where an odd shaped scar is healing.  They told him he tried to commit suicide a few weeks ago, and he blanches at the thought. “I am fine," he says again.  

 

“Let us begin,” the doctor says.  “What is your name?”

 

He takes a breath and thinks it peculiar how the question raises a thrill of anxiety in his gut.  “My name is Donald Blake.”

 

The doctor nods and writes on his chart.  “Why are you here?”

 

“I am here in Beaumont Psychiatric Hospital because I am ill and through my illness I killed an innocent woman.”

 

“What was her name?” the doctor prompts.

 

He feels sick, like he’s going to vomit, but he swallows the guilt down and replies.  “Jane. The woman I killed was Jane Foster.” 

 

“Very good, Donald,” the doctor says.  “Tell me about your brother.”

 

He pauses, looking uncertain.  The doctor hasn’t asked him this in some time.  

 

“Doctor, I don’t have a brother,” he says and the words cause a sharp pang in his heart. He longs for a brother, for family, a sense of rightness that has been missing for as long as he can remember.  There are shadows drifting along the surface of mind but he knows these are dangerous and must resist them.  “I have-- I have no one, no family.” 

 

“That’s right. But Donald, don’t lose heart.”  He places a hand on his shoulder and smiles broadly.  “We’re your family now. We’ll take good care of you.”

 

He nods, and though the doctor smiles, his touch a gentle reassurance that he will be lovingly looked after, he cannot shake the sense of despair that fills him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to mention that what Doctor Warren did to Thor in no way reflects psychiatry. What he did under the guise of “treatment” is something else entirely. Thor is more a prisoner than a patient. 
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter, Loki's search continues. If you are interested in hearing about this work as it is in progress, sometimes I talk about it on my [tumblr.](http://griseldajane.tumblr.com/)


	3. Touch Me, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He lifts Thor’s pillow from the bed and he brings it to his face, breathing in the faint scent that still lingers on the sheets.  Loki cannot help but ache for Thor, his perfect opponent, his flawless counterpart-- _missing._  His hate, his pure unsullied animosity for Thor has changed over the time he has been absent.  To what exactly Loki is unsure of, but it is no clean tenet he can cling to, polluted as his feelings are with deep stirrings of need and affection.  

**MAD MAN**

**\--Three: Touch Me, part one--**

 

The light is hot against his aesir skin, beading drops of sweat down the back of his neck, but the breeze enfolds around him like great arms, a cool caress taking the sting out of the biting sun.  Loki does not take pleasure in the relief, standing as if a stone statue, stoic and silent, unmoved by the embrace of the wind.   

 

Loki has come to the city of Trondheim with singular purpose, and his somber mission does not match the bright country.  This time of year there’s only four hours of darkness in Norway and he thinks absently how Thor would like this, basking in sunshine for most of the day.  

 

As he imagines it, Thor grinning wide with a fondness reserved only for him, his blond hair haloed by the light, his heart aches.  It has been almost two years since Loki began searching for his brother.  In some ways it feels an eternity and in other ways, a blink.  

 

A mortal woman cuts across the sunny courtyard of the Sci-Tech University, oblivious that she is being watched from above.  As Loki tracks her tiny form, malice seethes within him for, the mortal is none other Jane Foster, the woman who won his brother's favor from him.    

 

 _If I kill her, Thor will come,_ Loki thinks.   _He will not let me murder his beloved mortal with impunity._

 

It is a madcap plan to draw this brother out from his twenty-two month absence.

 

As surely as the pendulum swings marking time as it passes, Loki oscillates between two theories-- the first, that Thor has been captured and is being held prisoner, and the second, that Thor is purposely laying low, for it seems at times impossible that Thor could be so well hidden from _him,_ one of the greatest sorcerers in all the nine realms.  It _must_ be that Thor is actively taking flight.

 

The third possibility, that Thor has died, Loki will not entertain, not until he finds Thor's lifeless body or sees his spirit in the realm of the dead with his own eyes will he believe that. 

 

The Avengers do not know of his plan to kill Jane, but he wagers that once he’s carried it through, he will have their attention once more. For all their goodwill, they have put the search for Thor on hold and Loki cannot fathom that there are other things that take precedence over the recovery of a crown prince, that Midgardians could have other problems to solve, other villains to waylay, that are more pressing matters than reclaiming their sworn protector.

 

 _I will remind them who exactly they are dealing with and what their priorities ought to be_ , Loki thinks.

 

His collaboration with the Avengers is purely a partnership of convenience. They both want the same thing, Thor recovered to them, and Loki realized he could use them to search Midgard while he hunted through the other realms for traces of his brother. When the Avengers offered him an olive branch, he had accepted only to use them as a means to an end.

 

As it happened, there was _nothing_ in all the realms disclosing Thor's whereabouts. Loki’s seidr swept everywhere, he spoke with friend and foe alike and none had seen hide or hair of Thor.  Desperation forced Loki to step foot in Asgard for the first time in years, revealing himself to the gatekeeper alone, but before Loki could beg his query, Heimdall said, “Your brother is hidden, even from my gaze.” 

 

When he returned to the Avengers tower after the months had tallied to a year of traversing the galaxy with no hint of his quarry, Loki was furious to learn that Thor’s disappearance was no longer a prime concern among his friends.  Other, more urgent situations present themselves to the Avengers and that is where they focus their energies, on _current events._

 

Drastic measures must be taken.  Loki has to remind the Avengers, and all Midgardians, that he is not one to be ignored.

 

 _If the Avengers need a more pressing villain, then I shall give them one_ , Loki thinks.   _Thor will want my blood for this and he can gladly have all that he can take for himself._

 

When Jane is far enough from campus, when the road dips down, quieting into a valley obscured from other travellers, Loki reveals himself to her, dropping his guise from his frame as if discarding a cloak.

 

Her eyes widen when she sees him and she sucks in a gasp, but then Jane recovers herself quickly, moving towards him, actually taking steps toward her own demise, and says, “I am looking for him, too," as if Loki is her ally in a great quest.

 

So unexpected are her words, it as if she has struck him, and Loki makes a noise a very near to a growl.  What does Jane know of Thor's disappearance? How can she know of Loki's exhaustive search for him?

 

Jane steps back, her brown eyes brimming with compassion.  “I miss Thor, too,” she says. 

 

“I have not come here to _talk_ ,” he snarls, outraged by her sheer gall.  He does not need some shoulder to cry on, least of all _hers_.

 

“I can guess why you came,” Jane says.  “But if Thor has not returned to you by now, then no amount of destruction will summon him.” 

 

“You would say such things to prolong your life,” Loki says. “But you will not deter me, mortal.”

 

“What I have learned-- what I know as well as anyone-- Thor wouldn’t stay away to hurt you,” Jane says.  “If he hasn’t come to you, then it is because he _can’t_.  Thor has not abandoned you, Loki.” 

 

Mortals are such frail, short lived beings, and yet their insight into the heart and mind is astonishing.  Loki does not know how Jane understands these wayward emotions that storm in him, when _he_ barely understands himself. But she knows somehow, the core of his feeling, as if she can see inside to the very insecurity that compels him-- 

 

 _Abandoned--_ His fear, his greatest fear, that Thor has finally well and truly forsaken him, so completely and so utterly that he has seemingly vanished, for it is what Loki would do if he had the nerve, if he genuinely meant all the things he says to Thor.  He means them when he says them, and only sometimes after the heat of the moment has passed do these wicked sentiments linger, but many a word he's spoken in anger was used purely as a weapon to cull the most possible damage of Thor. 

 

“I think he’s in trouble, Loki,” Jane says.  “I’ve been tracking weather patterns, looking for ones similar to when Thor uses Mjolnir,” Jane says as she swings her bag around and fishes through it, struggling to pull out some kind of electronic device with data stored on it.  She holds it up to show him, rambling on about the information as if it means something to him.

 

Jane comes round to stand next to him so she can see the screen too, though she doesn’t touch him, she is too smart for that.  Jane talks to him as if he were a colleague rather than the villain he is who has come to kill her.  She barely comes up to his shoulder, her frame petite like that of a juvenile aesir. With a flick of his wrist he could summon a spell that would snap her like a twig. He doesn't though, instead choosing to see what could be so important that Jane would risk her life.

 

Most of the numbers that scroll by mean nothing to him, but he recognizes how mortals track the day and years and sees that Jane has been looking for Thor everyday for more than a year, much like he has.  She has been tireless in her efforts, small though they may be. 

 

This tiny mortal, half his size and with no defenses, offers him insight and comfort where he would offer her death, and this small oblation has somehow disarmed him, for he cannot bring himself to destroy her as if her gesture has not impressed him.

 

"...so the algorithm is pretty well established now," she is saying, using her fingers to magnify and expand the image on the screen. "And I'll know if Thor uses Mjolnir any time soon because it always affects the atmosphere and there are weather probes and satellites nearly everywhere around the globe..." 

 

When she glances up from her data, she sees that Loki has hidden himself again. He watches her, momentarily amused as she turns foolishly, as if she might catch him in the act of disappearing. 

 

"We're going to find him," she calls. "Loki? We will get him back."

 

 _Yes,_ he thinks as he vanishes. _And the Avengers will assist me if I have to steal the tesseract back to make them do it._

 

 

*****

 

 

In a silent burst, Loki reappears in the center of Thor's rooms in the Avengers tower, staggering a few steps as he orients himself to the space.  It is dark, the curtains are drawn, dampening most of the light, apart from the tiny beams that peek around the fabric edges.  Everything is as Thor left it, clothes on the floor, bed unmade, the covers thrown carelessly aside to reveal the lush red sheets underneath. though now everything is covered in a fine layer of dust, it remains a shrine to the missing thunder god. Loki bends slightly, running his fingers along the fabric where his brother last slept as if he could touch Thor through the ether.

 

He lifts Thor’s pillow from the bed and he brings it to his face, breathing in the faint scent that still lingers on the sheets.  Loki cannot help but ache for Thor, his perfect opponent, his flawless counterpart-- _missing._  His hate, his pure unsullied animosity for Thor has changed over the time he has been absent.  To what exactly Loki is unsure of, but it is no clean tenet he can cling to, polluted as his feelings are with deep stirrings of need and affection.  

 

It is unseemly that he should feel so sentimental, though he has not allowed himself to weep this entire time and will not start now.

 

A soft tone trills and Loki recognizes the sound as Stark's automated system alerting the tower to an intruder.  Through his seidr, it only takes a moment to locate Stark in one of the briefing rooms with the Captain, and an instant later Loki appears to them before he can be caught in his brother’s neglected rooms.  

 

What Loki has with the Avengers is an uneasy truce at best and one, long drawn out grift at worst.  Once it became clear that locating Thor would be no easy task, they came to an understanding, he and Stark and the Captain, to set aside their conflict and pool their resources in the hopes of getting Thor back quickly.  One of the perks of this relationship is that Loki is not barraged with fire upon sight when he magics himself into the tower.

 

"My patience is at its end," Loki says.  "Whatever else preoccupies you, you will cease."

 

“You’re back, I see,” Stark says, nonplussed, as if sorcerers flit in and out of his presence making demands all the time. Giving Loki a once over, he adds, "And _sans_ one thunder god.”

 

“What have you to show for _your_ efforts?” Loki snaps.  “In the months I have been searching, the lot of you have done _nothing_ save renounce your oath of comradeship to Thor through your inaction.”

 

"It’s not that we don’t want to find Thor-- There are other missions in the works here, things happening everyday that need our immediate attention," Stark begins. "We certainly don't have time for your histrionics--."

 

"Histrionics?" Loki says, and laughs. "You have no concept of the danger you play with.  You are fortunate that Asgard has not taken action against your people for holding hostage it's crown prince."

 

"We don't know that's what happened," Steve interjects. "Any number of things--."

 

"Thor was last seen _here_ ," Loki says, "Do you suppose that excuse will hold up against the Allfather's scrutiny when he rides here demanding the return of his only son?"

 

"What would you have us do?" Steve asks. "If you think we don't care about your brother then you are out of line. We've tried _everything_ we can think of to find him. We searched exhaustively for months, but the trail has gone cold."

 

"You've got something in mind," Stark says suddenly. "Spill it."

 

Stark is sharp, Loki will give him that.  

 

"If Thor is not anywhere to be found then he must be nowhere," Loki says.

 

They stare at him with blank expressions, as if he has lost his mind, and Loki sighs in frustration at their limited mortal point of view.

 

"There are places in every realm that are hidden, even to those who know how to look," Loki explains. "Even the gatekeeper with his all-seeing gaze cannot see _everything_."  The void Loki found himself in when he fell from the bifrost was hidden from Heimdall’s gaze, and there are certain paths around Yggdrasil that are obscured.  

 

"If Thor is not in a place I can see, then he must be in one of these voids," Loki says. 

 

Loki always assumed he was the negative space, the remainder of Thor’s positive, but he thinks now that they must have reversed.  He must search for areas of nothing, for negative spaces, for pockets of reality that are hidden.  

 

"We must look for a void.  We will search for the gaps for Thor _must_ be there," Loki says.

 

“So… you want us to look for nothing?” Stark says.  

 

“Not just _nothing_ ,” Loki snaps.  “A void-- an absence!”

 

The phone in the room lights and JARVIS says, “Sir, Ms. Romanoff is calling.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, hold on a minute,” Stark says, waving his hand.

 

“Very good, sir,” JARVIS replies.

 

“How do we even begin a search like that?” The Captain says, looking from Loki to Stark.

 

Stark blows out a breath.  “Needle in a haystack, man,” he says.  “Not impossible, but unless you have some specific ideas, it could take us years to develop something,” he says glancing over at Loki.

 

“We do not have _years_ ,” Loki hisses.  “Nearly two years have already been wasted on your incompetence.”  

 

Stark bristles, clearly taking a disliking to being called anything other than brilliant. 

 

“We’re all doing the best we can,” the Captain says, trying to soothe the tensions in the room.

 

“Your best is deplorable,” Loki says.  “Pathetic, wanting to be praised for mediocrity--.”

 

“Hey, like _your_ magic has served us any better,” Stark retorts.  “Unless, what, you’re holding out on us?  I mean, I don’t _see_ Thor anywhere, so maybe you don’t really want him back.  For all I know, you’ve long since murdered him and are playing some kind of sick game with us.”

 

Loki snarls and moves towards Stark while the Captain gets in between them, trying to stymie a violent altercation.  

 

They’re still arguing when a minute has passed and JARVIS puts through Natasha’s call.  Natasha’s image appears on the screen, flickering with interference in the signal.  Her hair is coiffed in an updo and an elegant set of pearls adorns her collarbone, the muffled sounds of a social gathering in the background.

 

Natasha takes one look at the bickering men and announces to the room, "I found a lead on Thor.”  

 

Loki whirls around to stare at her, his eyes owlish with surprise and the Avengers fall silent beside him.  

 

“You… you have?” Loki asks when he recovers his voice.  He always assumed that _he_ would be the one to find Thor, the one to retrieve him from his concealment.  

 

“Well, speak of the devil, we were just arguing about him,” Stark says.

 

"Where are you exactly?" Loki questions, ready to be wherever she is in the next instant. He cannot believe that this mortal woman found a trace of his brother where he did not.

 

"No, no-- He's not _here_ ,” she explains.  “But I overheard a very interesting conversation about a pet god and I couldn’t help but wonder about it."

 

“A pet... _god_?” Loki asks, his brow creasing with confusion. 

 

Natasha nods and begins to explain.  On an intel assignment in Toronto, she is tailing a businessman at a social event, sent there to gather information on an unrelated case, when she caught wind of a man bragging about his collection of oddities.  Many of the patrons are rich society people who are bored with most things in their lavish lives.

 

Natasha tells of a group of wealthy collectors who have taken one-upmanship to the next level. It is not enough to have wealth and prestige, but among their small inner circle there must be yet another way to impress and gain influence.  What thrill is there for those who can have anything that they desire?  They want the impossible.   

 

A woman from Bangalore claims to have a mermaid living in a lagoon on her estate. A man from Los Angeles says he actually has _the_ Holy Grail. And a doctor from Courtenay claims he has an actual deity in his collection.

 

A relic and a myth are one thing, a god something else entirely. Naturally, the group wanted to know more-- which one-- how could a man subjugate a god?  He refused to say which deity he possessed, but when the others scoffed at him, the doctor invited the group to his resort to see for themselves.  

 

In twenty-two months, it is the first possible lead they’ve had on Thor’s whereabouts. 

 

“Tell me you got his name,” the Captain says.

 

“That and more,” she says and suddenly an address pops up on the screen. _Beaumont Psychiatric Hospital and Resort in Courtenay, British Columbia, warden Dr. Abner Warren._

 

And suddenly Stark is taking over, showing the value of Midgardian technology as his arms wave in the air and bring forth electronic images.  Within seconds he has called up the address and has a satellite picture of a huge sprawling property on the screen and pages of text with information about the place beside it. 

 

Beaumont is apparently a world renowned treatment center and resort.   It's both a place for the wealthy to rejuvenate and for the truly mentally disturbed to find asylum.

 

With a frown, the Captain asks, “A psychiatric hospital?”

 

“What is that?” Loki says, turning to see the Captain’s troubled expression.  “A hospital is where you heal your sick, what is _sigh-key-ah-trick?”_

 

“A psychiatric hospital is for the mentally ill-- for people who have behavioral problems, trouble with their minds,” the Captain explains.  “Do you have such a thing in Asgard?”

 

“No,” Loki says.  Certainly there are people with less intelligence than others, and some unfortunate souls who have lost their minds to madness, but there are few treatments for such madness in Asgard and certainly not an entire facility devoted to the cause.  

 

“Thor is in a hospital... for the insane?” Loki asks slowly, trying to understand.   

 

“We don’t know that,” Stark says.  “We don’t even know if the god in question _is_ Thor or just the bragging of an arrogant egotist.”

 

“We will,” Loki vows and with a final look at the map, he vanishes from the Avengers’ tower.  

 

 

*****

 

 

At first glance, Beaumont Psychiatric Hospital and Resort is not the dank prison Loki was expecting.  The sprawling property is well kept with a verdant lawn and lush hedges of greenery.  Tall trees flank a path to a flower garden with an alcove where there are plenty of benches for quiet conversation or solitary contemplation.  It’s quiet and peaceful here, a lovely breeze drifting over from the water.

 

Yet when Loki is standing within an easy distance of the resort building, he understands at once why no one could find a trace of Thor in two years--

 

Powerful, impenetrable wards have been cast upon the estate, so strong that Loki feels their force from the edge of the property.  The inhibiting energy laps at his boots like the tide upon the shore.

 

 _Thor must be inside,_ he thinks.  There would be no need for such protections unless someone like Thor was held captive within its walls.   

 

Two years of searching and Thor was on Midgard the whole time.  Grappling somewhere between outrage and humor, Loki surmises that once again he has neglected to consider human ingenuity, that these frail, puny beings are more than just insects toiling in the dirt. 

 

In a way, Loki was right about the negative space. When he extends his seidr across the property, it is repelled back towards him, and instead of feeling the gentle life forces of the flora and fauna he knows are there, he feels a sudden void, like a vacuum, where even the natural magics of the earth are absent.

 

The wards are meant to keep all manner of magical creature at bay, and Loki suspects they were erected specifically with him in mind for they are quite strong indeed.  

 

It is a steel-jawed trap opened wide, inviting him to step across before the mouth snaps closed around him like a cage.

 

 _This changes nothing,_ Loki thinks.   _Even so knowing the risk, I will cross the threshold to retrieve what is mine._

 

Even without the use of seidr, he is still a formidable warrior.  He will go inside, and he will free his brother.  Thor will be within his grasp again before this day is out.  

 

Loki wonders briefly if his glamour will hold, he knows so little of his true form, of how much his Aesir appearance is an inherent shape shifting ability and how much is magically induced.  He has yet to encounter anything, save the Casket of Ancient Winters, that will banish the Allfather’s influence from his skin.  

 

His first steps on the great asphalt drive are tentative, but his magics are still with him and so he continues with increasing speed.  More powerful than most, Loki keeps himself hidden as long as he can, but as he draws nearer to the building it becomes increasingly difficult to hold his veiled appearance.   

 

Thor is so close that Loki thrums with anticipation, but he has waited for nearly two years for this moment and he will not waylay himself now.  

 

Contemplating the best way to proceed, Loki decides to stay as unobtrusive as possible. He does not know what to expect as he watches people filter in and out, patients, visitors and workers alike. 

 

After careful observation, Loki notices that the cleaning staff have their own entrance and attract little to no attention.  No one bothers the custodians as they trim hedges, sweep the walkways and wash the floors.  And they all have card keys hanging from their belts that seem to open any door.  

 

Loki enters through the laundry room, where the doors are left open to relieve the heat from the many white machines that launder all the linens.  

 

As soon as he is enclosed behind the walls of the building, his magic is shuttered from his body.  Panic rushes through him, leaving him gasping.  He presses himself against a whirring washing machine, making himself small as he comes to terms with the loss of his seidr.  It is always a surprise to remember how much like air magic is to him for it is not often he is reminded to take a breathe.  

 

When he feels he can continue, Loki rises on shaking legs, and seeing that his Jotun form is still contained, he proceeds with his plan.  Stealing a uniform from the laundry room is easy, mingling with the cleaning staff only slightly less so, and with a little charm, he purloins a card key off one of the young new hires within the first thirty minutes.  

 

With his head down and a broom in hand, Loki discovers that the first building, with its glamorous appearance, is for the wealthy patrons who seek rejuvenation, and the large building at the edge of the property is for the serious mental cases, where many are institutionalized indefinitely.  

 

The resort building is the height of Midgardian luxury, more a spa than a hospital, where the patients are treated like guests and can choose from a varied menu of lavish, exorbitantly priced treatment options that sound more like recreation than medical care.  Wealth opens many doors in this realm. A man like Doctor Warren, who operates in these social circles, must have a lot of power. 

 

Every man in a white coat garners an acrid glare from under his dark lashes, but none of the men he sees is this Doctor Warren who claims to hold captive a god.  

  
He asks casually about the doctor as if he is in awe of his prowess.  The man has quite a legend build up around him and the other custodians are eager to share what they know.  

 

Doctor Warren is a miracle worker who has saved the lives of world leaders and plebeians alike, or else he's a tyrant, having his way or nothing at all; he's a lovely old man or he's the devil in a white coat.  Most of the staff agrees that he does nothing by halves and is extremely particular about the way things are carried out in his hospital.

 

Loki learns that Doctor Warren _is_ a legitimate healer, that Midgardians come from all over the world to be treated by him.  His prowess must supply him with an incredible hubris, for what other sort of man would have the audacity to cage another? Doctor Warren has also terrified half of the custodial staff for his renowned penchant for cleanliness, forcing them to clean his private office four times a day.  Words like _obsessive-compulsive_ get thrown around while describing him.  

 

To his surprise, this is a proper healing facility where patients receive care from many different doctors and nurses.  Though his disguise grants him access to nearly every room, he cannot enter rooms where he would disturb patients without calling attention to himself, which accounts for the vast majority of the rooms in this place. Thor could be in any one of them.

 

The most expeditious way to Thor is to go directly to the man who laid claim to him-- by looking for Doctor Warren himself.  Loki would bet his life that Thor is being kept very near to the doctor himself. 

 

Within the second hospital building is Doctor Warren’s private office and that’s where Loki heads next. 

 

 

*****

 

 

A brief reprieve as he walks from the resort to the hospital, Loki’s magic spools around him once more.  He gathers it around his person, blanketing himself in its comfort before his seidr is driven from him again.  There is solace in knowing that his magic can only be contained within the warded buildings themselves and not in the open air of the estate, though he does feel the pull of the shields, draining his power as he walks between the two structures. 

 

Iron gates wrap around the grounds of the hospital building like metal teeth. It sits far back on the property, isolated from the resort by a lengthy walk.  Loki uses his stolen card key to open the gate which closes with an ominous _clang_ as soon as he steps through it. 

 

In contrast to the resort, the hospital building has an aura of depressing silence around it, misery obviously contained within its walls and when Loki’s magic is ripped from him once more, the absence of seidr is filled with despair.  This place is less about rejuvenation and more about treating serious illness.  The patients here are troubled and weighted with sadness and this weight is a pall on all who enter. 

 

Within ten minutes of wandering around the hospital, a wave of nausea hits Loki hard.  He stops for a minute, and suddenly weak, he leans against the wall. The magic dampening wards on this place are far stronger than in the other facility.

 

The wards press on him, a steady, unyielding weight, and he drowns, surrounded on all sides by this energy draining force.  Heaving several deep breaths, Loki pushes through it. 

 

Taking fright, Loki wonders if Thor could survive exposure for two years.   _Yes,_ Loki thinks desperately.   _Thor is stubborn as a mule.  He will have endured… but at what cost?_

 

Loki is a powerful mage and even _he_ withers under its influence.  Thor is no sorcerer, with no aptitude for seidr, but magics still flow through the god who commands storms and is worthy of Mjolnir.  With a sinking realization, it occurs to him that Thor stood no chance in this place, had no way to protect himself from the wards that would drain him of every ounce of his Aesir spirit.

 

The mortal patients and workers go about their lives completely unaffected by these wards.  Midgardians are mostly oblivious to the frequency, their senses too dull to pick up such subtle and intricate wavelengths of magic.  This is a reason why earth sorcery has all but died out-- mortals are too insensitive to feel it.   

 

The sooner Loki can leave this place, the better.  

 

It’s after seven and many of the day staff are leaving for the evening. Loki picks a young nurse on her way out who looks tired from her day at the hospital.  Giving her his most charming smile, he spins her a story about being new and lost in this vast medical complex.  

“I’m a bit turned around. Doctor Warren’s office, it’s on the this level?” Loki asks. 

 

“This floor and the next are short term patient floors,” she says.  “You want to go up to the third floor, which is administrative.  The director’s private offices are to the left.”

 

“The third floor, that’s right,” Loki says. “Pardon my curiosity-- what’s on the fourth floor?”

 

“It’s the long term patient ward,” she says with a sad smile.  “For those who are deeply disturbed and will most likely never leave.”

 

Loki thanks her as she departs and with a darkening heart he makes his way to the stairwell. 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

It's easy to get inside, his card key works on Doctor Warren’s office door as it does on all the other doors. Loki is suspicious at first until he considers the sheer arrogance of this man, assuming none would suspect him and none would dare cross him, and so he does not bother with extra security. 

 

 _He's wrong on both counts,_ Loki thinks. 

 

The doctor must still be away at the event where Ms. Romanoff heard his boastful bragging for he is certainly not in his office.

 

The warden’s office is expansive and quiet.  A large mahogany desk, free of clutter, sits near the window where sheer white curtains soften the orange light of sunset filtering through. There are display cases along the walls with certificates, diplomas and newspaper clippings and a supple leather couch with a pair of chairs in the center.

 

There are two rooms adjoining his large office, one a study with books and files, the other a spacious bathroom complete with a shower.

 

Everything is so unobtrusive that Loki half expects to find Thor chained up in a closet or secreted behind a false wall.  

 

Doctor Warren’s desk yields little. It is immaculate, almost as if it does not see use.  The large bottom drawer is filled with the files of his current patients.  Names, illnesses and prognoses that mean nothing to him.  There’s nothing about Thor, or Asgard or even the exaggerated tales from Midgard myth about Thor.

 

Still, he just needs a hint of where Thor might be in this large complex.

 

Loki pushes open the door to the study and slips inside.  It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and when they do he sees that the walls are lined with books and there’s a large armchair inside with a small side table and a lamp.

 

But what attracts Loki’s attention is the wooden cabinet tucked into the back room with a single patient’s name written on it: _Donald Blake._  

 

 _That name…_ Loki thinks.  He’s seen it somewhere before. _Years ago, when Thor was banished._

 

The cabinet is locked, but with a little finessing with a metal clip, Loki gets the drawer open.  The folders within are all neatly organized just as the others in the desk were.

 

He lifts a heavy, leather bound binder from the drawer and lays it open on the floor.  It’s filled with handwritten notes in neat cursive script and pictures fastened to the inside with little black corners.

 

The content of these pages make Loki’s eyes go wide. 

 

Inside is like a shrine to Thor.  Contained within is every bit of printed press about Thor.  Neatly and methodically ordered into this scrapbook, it is a patchwork quilt of Thor’s history on Midgard. Pictures of Thor alongside Jane and Erik Selvig, receipts with examples of his handwriting from the brief time he spent as a mortal, newspaper articles about Thor and his association with the Avengers, and even classified documents from SHIELD have all somehow made their way into Doctor Warren’s hands. 

 

There’s even a section about Loki in the book with a note that leads to another section on sorcery with a list of Midgard experts on the subject.  

 

This man is _obsessed_ with Thor. And as he pores over the pages, Loki sees with complete understanding and breathless rage that Doctor Warren sought to trap his brother for _years_.  

 

Capturing Thor took almost four years of careful planning to orchestrate-- researching everything about Thor from his birth right down to every place on Earth he’s ever stepped foot into, funding and testing ways to inhibit magic and the biology of an aesir, finding the right adversary to render him senseless, setting up the haul to whisk him away under the Avenger's noses, and once all that was in place, Doctor Warren descended upon him like a bird of prey going after a wounded animal. 

 

Most of the more detailed information had been stolen from SHIELD, including speculation and theories on how to incapacitate his brother.  Thor always was a trusting fool, but Loki wonders if he knows how the trust he has extended to his beloved mortals was used against him.  According to these papers, SHIELD is actively looking for ways to stop him should he ever cease to be friendly.   

 

Continuing to read through the documents, Loki learns that when the creature was set loose that day, Thor was meant to be broken and Iron Man was meant to be killed.  The news of Stark's death was supposed to have overshadowed Thor's disappearance, leaving the trail cold for those who would track him. 

 

Loki’s face is hot, flushed with rage, and he must sit back, pressing a hand against his forehead to physically soothe the sudden spike of tension. The wards rob him of his strength, his bones feel hollowed as if suddenly avian, but in this instance it is good that his magic is hindered for he would have destroyed the room in a fit of fury otherwise.  

 

There are patient file folders in the back of the cabinet, years worth of the doctor’s private notation on Thor and his unmodified medical charts, showing a dizzying list of medications that Thor has been given as the doctor experimented with finding just the right drug cocktail to interfere with his brain function.

 

With a snarl, Loki throws the files back into the drawer. He is _sickened_ by this, moved to such a place of revulsion that he would raze the land and all mortals within a hundred mile radius for merely allowing the existence of such depravity against Thor, whose love for the very beings who have desecrated him is fathomless.  

 

It is time to find his brother and rescue him from this torment.

 

The record details that Thor is kept sequestered away from other patients, the sole occupant of an entire corridor of rooms on the fourth floor.  

 

 _He’s kept with the deeply disturbed patients,_ Loki thinks, _where his pleas for aid would go unnoticed._

 

It’s after seven and most of the day staff has left for the evening.  Loki slips quietly down the hallway, peering through the doors of each room until he comes to a corridor with only one open door, the lone patient in this entire section.

 

A nurse with a paper cup in each hand walks down the hallway, and Loki follows her silently.  She pauses at the open door and says, “Hello, Mr. Blake,” before entering. 

 

His heart pounding, Loki steals past the open doorway.  He peers in briefly as he passes, but cannot see around the nurse standing there.  Pressing back against the wall next to the door, Loki eavesdrops on them. 

 

“The doctor will still be giving you your last round today,” she says cheerfully. 

 

Loki listens intently for his brother’s voice, but he hears nothing, just a faint rustling of sheets and the nurse’s soft footsteps as she pads around the room.  

 

“Thank you, Mr. Blake,” she says, tossing the now empty paper cups into the waste bin with a gentle swish of plastic bag. “Doctor Warren’s flight arrived late, but he will be here very soon.  He wanted you to know that he will come by to see you tonight.”

 

Loki is still as shadow as she leaves, and he waits until she has turned the corner before he dares to move, stepping across the threshold into Thor’s room. 

 

When he first sees Thor, his heart very nearly stops, and he must force his lungs to release the breath he is unexpectedly holding. Thor sits on a bed with a book in his lap.  His gaze is unfocused, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

 

 _Oh, Thor._  Not quite believing his eyes, Loki stares unblinking, afraid if his gaze wavers for a second Thor will vanish from his sight. 

 

Thor’s hair has been cropped to his head and he wears the in-patient uniform of white cotton pants and shirt.  Thor has lost a stunning amount of weight, his cheeks hollow, his bulk diminished, and his pallor is pale as if he is a ghost of himself. 

 

But there can be no mistake--

 

 _It is Thor,_ Loki thinks.   _It's_ really _him._  After nearly two years, Loki has finally found his brother.

 

And he is just sitting there, _unshackled_ , not trying to escape. His door is open, even, and still he simply sits there, not-reading, not-escaping. 

 

Loki can stand it no more, his self control crumbling like a tree burned to ash. 

 

Thor does not look up as he approaches, continuing to stare blankly at the pages of his book with no realization that Loki is there. 

 

Kneeling at the edge of the bed, Loki peers up into Thor’s face, a thousand emotions rushing him at once-- 

 

Loki wants to pull Thor to chest, feel his breath on his skin, his heart beating against him; Loki wants to throttle him, shake him hard;Loki wants to open Thor up, gut him the way he gutted Loki, the way he spilled his insides out for abandoning him for _two years_ ; Loki wants to press kisses into his skin, brand him with endearments and every tender, soft feeling he’s ever felt for this man. 

 

Gently, Loki rests his hands on Thor’s knees, and butterflies flutter through his chest at the familiar warmth beneath his fingertips.

 

Thor’s once blue eyes are now dull, fraught with confusion, and there is no immediate recognition in them for his brother.  His head tilts, brows furrowing.  “Do I know you?” Thor asks.  

 

 _He doesn’t_ , Loki thinks. _Thor does not know me._

 

The breath steals from his throat and he gapes for several breathless seconds. There's suddenly a rock in his airway, a hard and jagged lump, making it difficult to breathe. 

 

“Of course you know me,” Loki says finally, “I am your brother.”

 

At the sound of his voice, Thor’s eyes go wide and a look of sheer panic blanches what little color remains from his face.  His lethargy burns away as adrenaline takes hold. 

 

“No, I was getting better,” he whispers.  “Please, you can’t be here.” Thor starts to shake, his unread book sliding off his lap, falling to the floor.  

 

As Thor scrabbles backward in a panic, Loki moves to his feet, reaching forward to capture Thor’s forearms in his grip.  Thor makes a strangled noise before speaking in a rambling string of panicked words.  

 

“No, please-- he said I was doing well!  They will force me back to _that_ _room--_ I cannot-- I will _not_ survive it this time-- please-- _please--_ I have done everything-- given everything-- and _still_ after all this time you have come back--.”    

 

“Shhh, breathe,” Loki whispers as he watches his brother fall apart and he’s suddenly more afraid now than he has been in the entire two years Thor has been missing.  

 

His reaction is beyond Loki’s understanding-- in their long history, Thor has shown him a gamut of strong emotions, joy, love, anger, frustration and a kind of grim weariness, but never has Loki’s presence garnered such complete terror before.  

 

Keeping a firm grip on his arms, Loki sits next to Thor on the mattress, and says, “It is over. They will not take you anywhere. I will not let them hurt you anymore, Thor.”

 

 _“No!”_ Thor shouts, agonized, and tries to pull away.  “No, do not say _that_ name! I have rid myself of it at last and will not be once more dragged down by illusion!” 

 

“Dragged down by illusion?” Loki repeats, his brow furrowing.  

 

“Please,” Thor pleads, his eyes widening with fragile hope. “You have only been here a moment. If-- if you would take your leave, it would be as if-- as if I had not relapsed and all might not be lost.”

 

 _He_ wants _me to leave him here_ , Loki realizes completely taken aback by Thor’s babbling distress. 

 

“You have been missing for nearly two years, Thor. I have come here to recover you at last, and I will not be leaving without you,” Loki says, laying a hand over Thor’s where it is balled into a fist into the bedding.    

 

“You seem so real,” Thor says suddenly.  “It is as if you are really touching me.” He reaches out and gently fingers Loki’s hair, tucking a loose tress behind his ear.  Shaking as he does this, Thor drops his hand down to rest on Loki's shoulder, his grip a mere shadow of his former strength.

 

Even so compromised Thor's long absent touch stirs embers of yearning in him. In his most private moments, Loki could admit that he missed Thor, but it is not until Thor’s hands are upon him once again that Loki understands how profound his want for Thor is-- like water on Muspelheim. 

 

"You are as if real beneath my touch-- _oh, my accursed mind--_ I cannot tell the difference! I am lost truly,” Thor says, dropping his head into his hands.

 

“You _are_ touching me,” Loki insists.  “I _am_ real-- Thor, what do you think I am?” Loki asks.  

 

Thor looks up and his face crumples with shame.  “You are not real for I have no brother.  You are a specter I have created.  A hallucination-- my hallucination...”

 

“Your-- _hallucination?"_ Loki asks. 

 

Thor's tired eyes glitter with heartbreak. He nods and whispers, "How I loved my brother… my brother was the hardest of my fantasies to give up. Even now, knowing that it damns me, my heart is alive as it has ever been at seeing you."

 

"Is… is that what they told you here?” Loki asks.  “That you have-- _imagined_ me? Imagined your _life?_ Is that why you do not try to escape?”  

 

“I must stay here,” Thor replies. “I am a danger-- to myself and to-- to others. I deserve to be here.” 

 

“You want to stay here?” Loki asks.  “Imprisoned in this asylum for the insane?”

 

“I must stay here,” Thor repeats, lowering his gaze in shame.  "Please," he whispers. "Your name has been driven from me, but I know that I loved you, I honestly did. But you must leave me now. If you ever returned that sentiment you will go now and never revisit me. Quickly, before _he_ finds out."

 

With a delicate touch, Loki tips Thor’s chin up to survey his downtrodden gaze.  The electric blue eyes Loki has loved his whole life have withered in the years they’ve been apart, and are now a dead gray, listless and half lidded.  

 

“Never,” Loki says.  “I am Loki. All the beasts of Hel could not deter me from you, Thor. You have taken leave of your senses, my dear brother, and so being the one with sound judgment, it is my will that we shall follow.”

 

A calm anger wells up inside him, such a deep rage that Loki can hardly swallow it down, but he does, knowing it will serve him well later.  

 

“Come, up with you,” Loki says, and is both amazed and appalled that Thor is so weakened that he has not the strength to reinforce his dissent.  

 

Scrambling backward across the mattress, Thor tries to flee his grasp, and doing so he falls off the bed, landing on his back with hard _thwack_ on the tile floor.

 

“Thor!” Loki hisses, vaulting over the bed after him.  Perching beside him, Loki loops an arm under Thor’s shoulders, and hefts him up onto his feet, taking advantage of Thor having the breath knocked clean out of him to move him towards the door.  

 

Fed a steady regimen of mind-altering poisons for nearly two years, Thor no longer possess the ability to resist anyone, and though he pleads with Loki, he does not stop him.  

 

More than anything else, Thor is scared, so Loki puts his lips to the shell of Thor’s ear, whispering words of affection, making promises of protection and well-being as he guides his brother down the hall.  The Norns have granted them favor, for the corridor is blessedly free of people as they make their way through it.  Their footfalls are soft against the linoleum floor as if swallowed up by the white that surround them. Thor protests less and less until he falls completely quiet as if a spell of night has overtaken him, but Loki does not know if he believes his honeyed words, or if Thor has simply given up. 

 

Keeping his focus on the stairwell, Loki ushers them along, pausing a heartbeat at the corner before slipping them past the nurses’ station when the sole nurse at the desk turns to answer a phone call.  In Thor’s current state, there is no way Loki can steal Thor out of the hospital the way he came in, so his new objective is to reach the roof.

 

This is not how he imagined it--  when he finally found Thor, Loki expected Thor would hold him close, his body wilting with relief and gratitude, yet perking up as the thrill of escape pumped through his blood, but this is not the reality, for the husk of a man who hangs onto him is one Loki barely recognizes. 

 

Negotiating the stairs will be difficult, but once Loki is free of these walls, his magic will be released.  The wards are strong, but require four walls and a ceiling to wrap around, a specified area to contain.  Though they will be within the radius of the cast wards, once they are in the open air again, Loki hopes he will have enough seidr to whisk them far away from here. 

 

There are hunting cabins not far from where Mjolnir rests and Loki decides to take Thor there, for Thor's first reunion after him should be with his beloved hammer. 

 

He holds his card key up to the reader and the light blinks green, the small sound of the lock releasing from the bolt, and then they are through the door into the stairwell, a mere thirty steps between them and freedom. 

 

"We are almost free, brother, but I need you to help me," Loki says as they stand on the landing, looking up at the darkened steps that lead to the roof.  

 

He cups Thor's face between his hands. "Look at me," Loki says.  There is much confusion and fear in Thor's eyes.  The sudden urge to kiss his cheek and press him close to his chest as if he were a child nearly overtakes him.  

 

Instead, Loki thumbs at the sharp angles of his gaunt face and affirms, "You have nothing to fear. We are going to climb up these steps and once we are outside, I will transport us away from here." 

 

Taking a backwards breath, Thor murmurs, “Why am I doing this?  I know better-- I _know_ I’m not supposed to leave my room.  I will be locked away again and I can’t-- _I can’t--_ Why am I letting you?”

 

“Because you loved me once, you said so yourself,” Loki replies.  “Because you could love me still.” 

 

“I could,” Thor whispers, blinking, his lashes wet with tears.  “So help me, I could.”

 

“Come, then,” Loki says, letting his hands fall to Thor’s shoulders and prodding him towards the stairs.  “I will be close behind you. I won’t let you fall.” 

 

The ascent is uncoordinated and slow, for Thor is no longer accustomed to taking action, the Midgardian pharmaceuticals in his system dizzying every step.  Vibrations from the edge of the wards make Loki’s skin tingle as they approach the top. They are within an easy reach of freedom.

 

 _“Donald!”_ A voice like an arrow pierces through the quiet stairwell, resounding against the walls with damning authority.  “Where do you think you are going?” 

 

The sound of this voice alone causes a terrified whimper to escape from Thor’s lips, and he stiffens against Loki’s front, his breath pulled ragged amid violent tremors that shudder through his body.  And he sinks, down and down, his absolute fear robbing Thor of what little fortitude he has left.  Loki braces Thor up against his side, and turns to glower at the man who has tormented his brother for two years.

 

An imposing figure in his dark suit and a hawk-eyed stare, Doctor Warren stands at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at Thor with furious, frenzied eyes.   

 

“Come down those stairs _at once,”_ he commands.  “No one is allowed on the roof. _You know that._  It is dangerous up there.” 

 

Caught under this man’s spell, Thor falters, unable to move neither up towards his freedom nor down to his ruin.  His terror at being caught by Doctor Warren has paralyzed him.  Loki holds tight to him, afraid that if he lets go, Thor will sink from him like an untethered anchor into the depths of the sea.

 

Everything suddenly feels feverish and Loki wonders if his true form is showing, for the air is at once uncomfortably hot and thick, and his vision has crimsoned with ruby-eyed rage.  

 

“ _You_ are the one who has defiled him,” Loki snarls.

 

The doctor does not so much as blink at Loki's venomous words. He does not acknowledge Loki in any way, for if he greets Loki’s presence, it is admitting that the doctor can see him, and if the doctor can see him that means Loki is _real_ and not a hallucination.  The doctor’s eyes never stray from Thor’s.

 

His fury swells, and Loki thinks, _Clever bastard._ Loki would kill this man where he stands, but he dares not relinquish his clasp on Thor, not even to smite his abuser.

 

“Donald, I asked you a question,” the doctor continues.  “There’s nothing for you up on the roof.”

 

“I-I’m sorry,” Thor stammers, looking between Loki and the doctor. 

 

“Tell me who you see,” The doctor demands.  “There’s no one there, Donald.  There’s no one there.” 

 

Thor shakes even harder, his breathing harsh as he stares down at the doctor.  He’s stalled, become a dead weight at the top of the stairs.

 

“Thor, he sees me,” Loki says into his ear.  “He is pretending not to, but he does see me. If he could not, he would have run up here after you already, but he knows if he comes nearer to me I will kill him without hesitation.” 

 

“Donald, you’ve been doing so well lately,” the doctor says, coming to the foot of the staircase.  “I had been thinking about granting you access to the courtyard. You’d like that wouldn’t you? You’d have a bit of fresh air and feel the sun on your skin, and you'd be safe.  But I can’t allow it if you step foot out that door.”

 

“He doesn’t want you to go to the roof because my power will be uncontained there,” Loki explains, “He knows I will whisk you far away from here the second we are free of these walls.” 

 

“Please, Donald, do not do this.  I care about you very much,” the doctor says.  “Have I not stood by you all the years you’ve been here? Do I not take care of you?”

 

Thor doesn’t say anything, but he bows his head and nods slightly.  

 

 _“Stood by him?”_ Loki hisses.  “No, you dismembered my brother and refashioned the pieces into a creature of your own making,” Loki says.  

 

“You came to us with _no family_ ," the doctor says, as close to a barb as he can direct at Loki.  "I have come to think of you as my own, Donald.  Come down from there now.  I know you can do it.”

 

“Thor, there are no promises this man can make, no love that he can offer you that can ever eclipse the bond we share.  It is buried deep within you, but it lives still,” Loki says.  “Much has transgressed between us, brother, but there is nothing I would not do to deliver you from this torment.”

 

“I would hate to have to put you back into isolation,” Doctor Warren says.

 

 _“No!”_ Thor shouts, the word tears from his lips as if ripped from his soul. _“No, not that, please--.”_

 

“If you need to talk to someone, talk to me.  You can always talk to me, Donald,” the doctor says.  “Just come down from there.” 

 

“Listen, brother dear,” Loki says, “You do not have to believe me.  No matter the outcome, if you go through that door, you will know for certain whether your mind is unsound or not.  You can know peace.  If the doctor is right, nothing will happen. You will stay here.  But if I am right, you will be free.  That man, who proclaims to care about you, does not wish your freedom. He means to keep you like a pet.  The Thor I know and love has the courage to find out which truth waits behind this door."

 

Thor looks up at the door, then back down at the doctor who has climbed up a few more stairs, his arm outstretched, beckoning Thor back into his embrace.  

 

With an unexpected burst of strength, Thor pulls from Loki’s grasp, who fumbles after him terrified Thor will leave his reach forever, but Thor takes two quick steps up, his hand curling around the doorknob.  

 

"Donald, don't you _dare!"_ The doctor snarls, his patience suddenly gone. "You are mine! You belong to me! I will find you if you dare to leave!"

 

White light bursts around him as the door opens and Thor steps out onto the rooftop, free-- 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Loki deals with the immediate fallout of taking Thor from Beaumont. 
> 
> Quick note, this story is expanding from 4 chapters to six. And I did a quick sketch of Thor in the hospital which can be seen in the previous chapter or by [visiting my tumblr.](http://griseldajane.tumblr.com/post/60303624806/there-are-so-many-things-that-i-dont-understand) :)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think.


	4. Touch Me, part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It was a long time hence we favored each other with affection, yet how can you disavow the promises we made to each other in our bright-eyed youth?” Loki asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all angst, like 100%, just warning you.

**MAD MAN**

**\--Four: Touch Me, part two--**

 

 

Dark and undisturbed, the hunting cabin sits a few miles west of the lonely Wyoming plain that has been Mjolnir’s home for the past two years.  Into this stillness Loki appears with Thor in tow, a loud crash as they unceremoniously collapse onto the dusty floorboards.  

 

The world is red and black and swimming before Loki’s eyes, his body ravaged by his magic.  The wood floor is hard against Loki, a pinching pressure in his skull and through the angles of his body. It is too much, too soon, whisking them away from Beaumont in a burst of seidr, with little time to recover from the wards oppressing him.

 

Stained wood paneling surrounds them, the heady scent of dirt and fur and prairie grass infused into the small space, the cabin is as different from the white sterile hospital as it could be.

 

With his energy depleted, Loki almost lost them somewhere in the ether, but with a resolute push, he maintained their trajectory.

 

There is a tingling in his limbs as weakness roils from them, and after several minutes the nausea passes enough to permit movement.  Loki turns over on the floor, craning his neck to look at Thor who lies supine next to him.

 

It is dim, but sufficient light for Loki to see that Thor’s eyes are open, his chest heaving in a terrible staccato rhythm.

 

Loki's slender fingers find purchase against the floor and he pulls himself along, breathes through a wave of dizziness before crashing down on Thor's shoulder.  With only strength enough to prod his head against Thor’s broad chest, he settles against him, feels his brother’s labored breath beneath his cheek, and finds hot tears streaming down his own face.

 

 _Thor_ , he thinks, and is overwhelmed by the feel of him beneath his hands at last, by the sound of his breath, and even his scent, though tainted with hospital toxins, is distinctly his own.

 

This childish, selfish need to crawl into Thor's arms and be comforted sends a pang of loathing through him.  He is better than this, has suffered and come too far in his life to regress to this level, and yet exhaustion robs him of his self-righteousness.  He is simply too tired to fight his yearning.

 

As much as Loki despises Thor, as much as he wants to shelter nothing but pure black malice in his heart, Loki _loves_ Thor in equal measure, completely and truly, with greater depth than even he realizes.

 

They lie together as if twins tangled in a womb, their bodies fitting around each other, Loki curling inward where Thor is convex. Loki does not know how long they lie on the floor with each other, only that it is not long enough to quell the longing produced by the two-year absence of his brother.

 

Loki wipes his face into the sleeve of his stolen uniform.  They cannot both breakdown at once and Thor needs his strength right now for he has been forcefully divested of his own-- his brother is falling apart, literally quaking with fear and Loki does not want to frighten him more with his own tears.  

 

“It’s alright,” Loki says, sitting up.  “Shhh,” he soothes, as he grips Thor’s clean shaven face between his hands, smoothing his palms down along his neck and broad shoulders.  He pulls Thor to him, hugging him tight.

 

Thor’s arms come up around him, but his embrace is weak, a shadow of what Loki remembers, which only makes Loki cling tighter to him.  Thor makes a noise, a pathetic broken sound that fills up the space around them and twists inside Loki's skull such that he expects blood to drip from his ears.  

 

Thor is unquestionably in shock, on the verge of an emotional breakdown, and Loki does not know if his brother can weather it.

 

Thor cannot deny that Loki has just magicked him away from the psychiatric hospital which has been his prison for nearly two years-- and that act alone disproves everything Doctor Warren forcibly conditioned into him.

 

Even now though, Thor rejects the truth that is in front of him.  His mind cannot accept that he clung to the lie and forsook the truth to survive what was inflicted on him.

 

“No, I must go back,” Thor says as he pushes against Loki.  He stands and sways on his feet, bracing himself against the closest wall.  “I am not supposed to-- to leave the ward. Doctor Warren will be-- he will be _furious_ with me.”

 

"You are free after years of imprisonment," Loki says. "If you try to go back there, _I_ will be furious with you, Thor."

 

Thor shakes his head. "No, my name is-- _it's Donald_ \--it is--."

 

"You are Thor, son of Odin," Loki says. "The mighty, the Thunderer, the master of Mjolnir!"

 

“No, you are a delusion!” Thor shouts, covering his face with his hands as if to blot out what he is seeing.

 

“ _Look_ where you are, Thor! Could a delusion do this?” Loki asks.

 

“ _Yes,_ I have seen many places that do not exist, and have experienced many things that are not real-- were never real,” Thor says into his hands.  “I will not listen to you. Jane’s death will not be in vain.”

 

“Jane...” Loki repeats, uncertain whom Thor is referring to for the Jane he knows of is very much alive.  “That mortal woman you took up with?”

 

“Jane Foster,” Thor replies, looking up to explain.  “She was a scientist. In one of my delusional outbursts, I... I killed her. She died because I couldn’t face the reality of my illness.”

 

“Is _that_ what they told you?” Loki says.  “Thor, much to my disappointment, Jane Foster lives.”

 

“No, you are a hallucination my mind has created to comfort me,” he insists.  “Of _course_ you would tell me things I long to hear.”

 

Bereft of words, stunned into silence, Loki can only track Thor’s movements as he stumbles across the cabin. Harmed far greater than Loki ever feared, Thor’s grip on reality is tenuous at best.

 

Thor slowly sinks down to perch on the edge of the coffee table, his nervous energy jittering down through his legs in a tense bounce, causing the floor to creak. He rocks a little, back and forth, unable to sit still in his distress.

 

 _I’m so tired,_ Loki thinks, brushing his dark hair out of his face.  He’s been running scared for two years and he had thought relief was in sight. But there is no respite.

 

A sudden rush of anger comes upon him with such speed that he momentarily thinks he may vomit from the shock of it.  Angry about everything that has happened to both of them, he is most furious at Thor himself.

 

 _Years_ he’s devoted to Thor, consumed by the search for his missing brother, and Thor is not even grateful to be found.  There is no closure, no release from the overwhelming notion that _Thor is gone forever_ \-- If Thor does not know who he is, then his brother is not truly found.

 

Loki rises to his feet like a gathering storm and stands before Thor, rigid with rage.

 

“Two years of confinement was enough to make you forget a thousand?” Loki snarls. “I cannot believe it, Thor.”

 

"My name is Donald--."

 

Loki slaps him across the face. "Your name is Thor Odinson. _Thor, son of Odin_. And you are _weak_."

 

With a hand pressed to the red mark on his face, Thor peers up at him with sad, shameful eyes.  "I know," he admits, his voice small. "I am nothing that a man should be."

 

"Nothing?" Loki questions. He gets right in Thor's face. "You are not _nothing_. You are the crown prince of Asgard. You are the God of Thunder and a guardian of this realm. You were my brother for a thousand years. You were trapped in a void, but _you_ are not nothing.  I did not upend my entire life for _nothing_."

 

Thor shies away from him, cowed by Loki's temper, a picture of shame and despair.  And Loki sees it now, his heart filling with horror— that Thor may well and truly be replaced with Donald.

 

"By the Norns, Thor!" Loki gasps, taking a backward step. "The mortals have actually-- _wounded you._ Your _mind_ is damaged."

 

"That is why I take medicines," Thor says in agreement, "to heal my mind."

 

“Brother, they have poisoned you,” Loki replies.  “Can’t you see that?”

 

“Please, you must take me back,” Thor says. "I need my medication, I am-- I am very sick." Whatever dosage the doctor was to give him, he’s missed, and Thor already shakes from the lack of it.

 

“How much… medication do they give you?” Loki asks, knowing the answer is already, _too much._

 

“I’m on a very strict treatment regimen,” Thor says.  “Since coming to the hospital, I have meds four times a day to balance my delusions. Injections at night to help me sleep and for emergencies when I am... anxious.”

 

Loki is appalled.  “Are you anxious often?” Loki asks in disbelief.  His brother, the man who recklessly charged into Jotunheim, defying the Allfather and brooking all out war, is anxious?

 

Thor nods his head, unable to voice it, his utter disgrace apparent.

 

 _Of course he is anxious,_ Loki realizes.  Being told that everything you know is a lie, every instinct you possess is wrong is enough to make any man lose his spirit. Removing Thor from Beaumont is not enough to free him from his imprisonment. His own mind keeps him caged.

 

“Your medication worked in tandem with the wards guarding the hospital.  It explains your weakness and your vulnerability to their desires,” Loki says.  He takes Thor’s hands in his own. “Did you not marvel at the frailty of these large limbs? Did you not wonder where your strength has gone?”

 

“I don’t have strength,” Thor says.  “I never did. I’m not--.”

 

“You _are_ ,” Loki insists.  “How can you doubt it when I alone am proof of who you are? How can Loki Silvertongue exist without his Mighty Thor?”

 

Thor squeezes his eyes shut.  “I am not he.”

 

“You still doubt I am real,” Loki says, resting his knee on the span of coffee table between Thor’s legs.

 

Anger and violence have gotten him nowhere.  Truth cannot be beaten into Thor and so Loki softens his approach.  He bends, tracing his fingers along Thor’s wrist before curling them over his hand, twisting around until their fingers are entwined in a firm grasp.

 

“Does this feel like an illusion to you?” Loki asks.  Thor does not answer, but neither does he deny him.  Encouraged, Loki presses on.

 

He brings Thor’s hand to his face and ghosts his lips across his knuckles before brushing a kiss against the back of his hand.

 

“It was a long time hence we favored each other with affection, yet how can you disavow the promises we made to each other in our bright-eyed youth?” Loki asks.  “Where lie your memories, brother?  Who did you make them with? Who chased after you in this supposed brotherless childhood? Who got you into trouble with your father? And bore the punishment at your side? Who was the first to kiss your lips? The first to break your heart? If not I, then who, my dear Thor?”

 

When Thor shakes his head to deny him, Loki catches his face between his hands, a gentle but firm hold.

 

“I am no illusion,” Loki says.  “You feel my skin against yours and yet forsake my touch?”

 

Loki guides Thor's face to his, pressing their foreheads together, his hand strong against the back of Thor's neck. It is Thor's gesture he adopts, wanting him to feel it and remember.

 

Thor inhales sharply. He's trembling, still afraid to believe all his so-called hallucinations are real.

 

Loki _must_ make him understand who he is-- who _they_ are.  Sweet touches and pressing his body to Thor’s is not enough. Loki wishes he could crawl inside Thor’s mind and scrape the rot from it.  Though he cannot do that, Loki thinks of one thing he might do to make Thor understand he is real and lets his actions speak more clearly than his words ever could.

 

Holding tight to him, Loki shifts, brushing his lips against his cheek before trailing down to meet Thor's parted lips with a kiss.  It is soft and sweet, meant to give comfort, but then Loki pushes, deepening the kiss to willful and demanding until he feels Thor responding to him.

 

 _Yes,_ Loki thinks. _Be shocked out of your stupor, feel something, make a choice, fight me if you must, but_ act _, my dear brother._

 

Thor pulls back from him with a gasp and whispers, “ _Stop--."_

 

He’s breathless, his chest heaving, but his hands have found the small of Loki’s back, gently anchoring them together.

 

Conflict wars across his features as his true feeling grapples with his conditioning.

 

 _“Loki--,”_ Thor says in his unique way, a tone of equal parts vexation and joy.  “We-- you and I--.”

 

"We have played various roles in each others lives-- brother, beloved, adversary,” Loki says.  “No matter how our paths wind, our lives are united by one common thread-- we belong to one another."

 

Loki puts a hand on Thor's chest, his warmth heating Loki’s fingertips through his thin cotton shirt. "You feel that, don't you?"

 

The kiss has awakened something in Thor-- Loki feels his body enliven, his breath quicken, his pulse race.

 

“Yes-- _yes,_ ” Thor says nodding, leaning into Loki's touch. "I do not care if you are a delusion.  You-- you are real to _me_. You _are_ my brother for I wish it to be so. You are mine as I am yours."

 

If this is all he can have right now, then Loki will take it. At present, it is enough that Thor will accept him.  Though Loki is troubled that Thor does not understand outright that he is not an invention of a disturbed mind. It seems all he's done is make Thor believe in him, his so called hallucination. 

 

It is not much, but Loki will accept whatever ground he can gain.

 

“I have-- I've never had anyone before," Thor says with a shy smile.

 

"Of _course_ you have," Loki replies. "You've _always_ had me and our mother and your father and your insufferable friends."

 

"I have no family. I am alone," Thor says automatically, then he shakes his head. "No, I _had_ no one-- but now I have you--."

 

Confused, Thor becomes agitated, frowning and pushing Loki away. Staring down at his shaking hand, Thor clutches it to his side as if to hide his trembling.

 

With ever a sharp eye, Loki thinks, _Something is wrong,_ and asks plainly, "Thor, what is it?"

 

"You have to take me back," Thor says. "I've missed several doses of medication. I cannot function without it.  I am dangerous and need to be medicated."

 

"No, you are not understanding," Loki says. "You are not dangerous unless you _choose_ to be."

 

“No, _you_ are not understanding,” Thor says, shaking his head.  “I _need_ it,” he says.  “I cannot go off my medication. Doctor Warren was very clear about that.”

 

“Everything that man told you was a lie,” Loki snaps.  “ _Everything_.”

 

“Not this,” Thor says, looking down at his shaking hand.  “It will only get worse…  Once I was put into the solitary room and something happened, or they forgot, or didn’t know where I was, but by the time they figured it out, I had missed several doses-- It near killed me to go without.”

 

Though he sees the evidence of withdrawal, Loki is not ever taking Thor back to that place. It will be rough, but Loki knows Thor is resilient even if he doesn't know it himself. They will ride out the storm together. Whatever pain is too intolerable, Loki will soothe with magic.

 

Except it is far worse than Loki imagined it would be.  Two hours later, Thor looks awful, drenched with sweat and pale and trembling.  He can’t sit still, instead choosing to pace the room until dizziness or nausea overtakes him.

 

Impossibly, his condition only gets more critical. Violently ill, heaving up what little sustenance he’d been given, Thor quickly moves on from nausea to vomiting and diarrhea. Much later, when Thor has nothing left to empty, Loki manhandles him from the bathroom onto the couch.

 

It’s all happening too fast and Loki guesses that Thor’s rapid deterioration must be his body’s response to the lack of suppression.  With no wards to hinder him, no new medication entering his system, Thor’s godlike metabolism is ramping up, his natural body function spiraling into a freefall without the drugs to support it.

 

In a mortal, it might takes days to reach this point, but Thor's body burns through what's left of the drugs in his system in a couple of hours, demanding more with a need as voracious as Thor's might.

 

“Tell me what is happening,” Loki says, wiping a wet cloth across his forehead to soothe his fever.  His eyes are mismatched, pupils dilated at different widths.

 

“It hurts,” he says.  “I feel as if I cannot breathe.”

 

Laying the flat of his hand along Thor’s neck, Loki feels his pulse flutter like a hummingbird and dread settles in the pit of Loki’s stomach.

 

“Loki...” Thor says.  “I do not think I will last.”

 

His limbs shake of their own volition and Thor can barely sit up on his own anymore.  Loki clutches him to his chest like a rag doll. A sheen of sweat beads his brow, yet now Thor’s skin is colder than Loki has ever felt it before.

 

“Nonsense,” Loki says, trying to soothe his pain with magic, but he is still too weak, and what little he does possess is not working.  To his horror Loki realizes that the wards Thor has been living under for so long have seeped into his body like the radiation waves that created the Hulk.

 

It will take a magic stronger than his to reach Thor.

 

“I am-- I am glad you are here,” Thor says, “at my end.  I feared I would die alone in that awful room.”

 

 _“Stop it,”_ Loki growls.  “You are being theatrical and it suits you ill.  You will not die--.”

 

But as he says this Thor seizes and chokes on the bile rising up in his throat.  Loki turns him onto his side and Thor throws up onto the floor and then goes limp, the tension in his frame suddenly halting.

 

“Thor!” Loki shouts, giving him a shake.  “Do not dare to do this.”

 

Loki doesn't know what to do. He does not have the strength to transport them to the Avengers Tower, nor has he any method of communicating with them now that he is so weakened.  Help is not within his reach.

 

He tries again to take Thor's pain away with the seidr available to him, but once more Thor’s body rejects the invasion.

 

“Talk to me,” Thor says quietly, swallowing thickly, his glassy eyes finding focus on Loki’s face. “Tell me something I can remember for a little while at least.”

 

Loki pets his face, brushing the sweat and wayward strands of hair from his forehead. Words will not get around the lump in his throat.

 

"Please," Thor says. "Please, Loki..."

 

"Oh, Thor you great fool," Loki hisses, pressing his cheek to Thor's forehead. “I hunted for you everyday for nearly two years. I searched every realm. Did you know that?” Loki asks, his words rambling, so unlike him. “I braved Jotunheim for you, risked execution at their hands if only to find you.”  He sits up, looking down into Thor’s face. “You cannot leave me this way, brother, not when I have searched for you for so long. Everyone pines for you, even--.”

 

But then suddenly he knows what to do and cannot believe he didn’t think of it sooner.  There is only one thing that can save his brother.

 

“Thor, you must help me,” Loki says, pulling him to sit up.  “On your feet, Odinson.”  

 

Loki hauls Thor up and ducks under his arm to brace him up, their sides pressed flush together. With Thor’s weight almost entirely on him, Loki feels Thor's muscles shaking, trembling like an animal dying from a messy kill.  To witness this in Thor frightens him.

 

“I will-- I will try,” Thor says.  “For you, brother, I will try.”

 

It is too soon, it is _far_ too soon for Loki to be using his magic in this way, but the distance is not so great and the cost of delaying is too high a price.  Thor’s body is shutting down and if Loki waits any longer, he will unquestionably die.

 

He gathers Thor into his arms, holding him as close as one holds a lifelong love.  He summons his seidr about them and vanishes.

 

Magic pulls him apart, tearing into him like barbs coursing through his bloodstream, but Loki does not stop until they are lying in a heap at the foot of Mjolnir.  The sky overhead is spinning, rendering him blind and Thor lies beside him curled into a twitching ball.

 

“Thor…” Loki rasps, his voice waning.  Licking his dry lips, he tries again.  “Thor, you must reach for her,” Loki pleads.  “Call your beloved Mjolnir.”

 

Thor is shaking too badly to do much of anything.

 

“Let me help you,” Loki says, and rolls over with a strangled gasp, pushing against the earth on shaking limbs.  He takes Thor’s trembling hand and places Thor’s palm around Mjolnir’s handle, letting his hand curl around Thor’s to hold his slack grasp around the hammer.  “Can you not hear her, Thor? She sings to you.”

 

Thor labors to breathe as his body convulses giving Loki no indication that he understands him.

 

“Hold on,” Loki says.  “Hold onto Mjolnir as I hold onto you.”

 

Loki himself will not last very much longer.  Black spots fleck his vision.  If he loses consciousness before Thor can call Mjolnir, then all is lost.

 

 _“Please,_ she can help you, if you only ask her,” Loki begs, frantic.  “You _must_ believe what I am telling you-- you must believe you are Thor.”

 

Thor moves, shifting his weight, slow but with purpose.  It takes but a touch-- as Thor’s hand grips Mjolnir of his own accord, the hammer roars to life.

 

Lightning screams down from the sky in a massive surge, channeling through Thor and the hammer and down into the earth.  

 

Loki is forced away by the sheer surge of power, scrabbling backward on hands and feet. The bolt of electricity seems to last forever and burns too bright to look at. Loki must shield his eyes from the blaze, but his heart flutters like a bird caged by his ribs and he cries out for his brother, afraid that he will not survive Mjolnir’s might.

 

Mjolnir is righteous, willful, pent up energy and longing releasing finally after two years.  With a magic as ancient as time, as powerful as creation, the hammer directs it all into Thor.  

 

Desperate to know what is happening, Loki squints into the blaze but cannot glimpse even a silhouette of his brother.  Squeezing his eyes shut, Loki prays that the Fates be merciful and have spun Thor a long life thread.  

 

When the light subsides and the smoke begins to clear, Loki sees a figure sprawled on the ground and he moves without thinking, crashing to his knees beside Thor’s slumped form.

 

Residual electricity shocks up his arms, and Loki hisses and curses under his breath but cannot stop from laying his hands on Thor.

 

“Please, _please,”_ Loki whispers, clasping Thor’s face between his hands.  

 

Thor groans and his brow furrows, eyes cracking open.  Though tired and fraught with exhaustion, his eye are clear, a gorgeous electric blue that steals the breath from Loki’s chest.  

 

Mjolnir has saved Thor’s life by burning the toxins from his system and has undoubtedly spoken to Thor’s heart and mind about his true identity.

 

Whatever else Mjolnir has done, Loki cannot say, but it does not matter because Thor is looking at him, his eyes as they once were, colored with wonder and recognition.

 

“Are you alright?” Loki asks, letting his hands rest on Thor’s chest.

 

Thor nods.  “My brother,” Thor whispers, clasping a hand over his.  “My Loki.”

 

Relief robs Loki of the strength adrenaline provided him and the next thing he knows he is encompassed by Thor’s arms, slumped over, his head cushioned on Thor’s chest.  Loki reasons he must have blacked out, though he is not sure for how long, only that he feels flushed, warmth pooling between their bodies.

 

He tries to sit back, but is too exhausted to do so, and then Thor is guiding him down onto the grass beside him, Loki too weak to object.

 

Side by side, they lie together as if boneless, wordlessly watching the day give way to night. Thor’s hand finds its way into his and Loki holds on tight.  

 

Loki knows they should move, but cannot bring himself to get up.  Thor must be getting cold in nothing more than his hospital uniform.  If he is, he does not complain. He stares mutely up at the sky, watching the stars come out. Loki wants desperately to know what he's thinking, what Mjolnir said to him to make him so calm now.  

 

 _It’s not calm so much as exhaustion,_ he thinks.  

 

Loki gives him this time to process, only rubbing his thumb over Thor’s every so often to reassure him that he is not alone.  Tears streak down Thor’s cheeks, but he weeps soundlessly, only taking a small inward breath every so often.  

 

*****

 

Minutes pass into hours when there’s a noise and then blinking lights of an aircraft coming into view.  Loki sits up quickly, eyeing the plane warily.

 

“The Avengers,” he says.

 

He leans over Thor into his line of sight, peering down into his face.  “Brother, your friends are here.  Do you want to see them?”  Strength has returned to Loki’s limbs and with it his magic.  Loki is rested enough that he could move them if Thor wished it.

 

Thor looks up at Loki and gently reaches up to cup the side of his face.  His eyes are startling, more clear that Loki has ever seen them, and within these depths he can see pain, and anger, but also relief and love.

 

“Truthfully, I am a little afraid to see them,” he says, “but I must.”

 

Thor is shaky and weak, and though Loki must help him to stay upright, he has not lost his mind, and he is not dead. Whatever else he suffers is tolerable for now.  Thor lifts Mjolnir and she sings with with pleasure, but it is difficult for Thor to keep his fingers grasped around the handle and lets the mighty weapon drop to his side.

 

“You will get stronger,” Loki assures him as he watches the aircraft land smoothly on the empty road a distance away.  “Give it time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Loki deals with the repercussions of Thor's imprisonment, while Thor strives to come to terms with all that has happened to him and how he now fits into his old life. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy, let me know what you think. Feel free to come say hello over on [tumblr.](http://griseldajane.tumblr.com/)


	5. Heal Me, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a weakness to love, but it is also a great pleasure, one that Loki would like to indulge in a bit longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra Warning: read all the tag warnings. There is emotional hurt ahead.

**MAD MAN**

**\--Five: Heal Me, part one--**

 

The night is deep, falling around them like a shroud, no light for miles on this lonely stretch of earth, save for the blinking lights of the Avengers jet.

 

Thor presses into Loki’s side when he stands on coltish legs, and Loki is comforted by his desire to stay close.  Loki touches Thor’s back, his fingertips resting on the muscle above his shoulder blades as they wait for the Avengers to emerge.  They do not hold hands, though Loki’s fingers twitch with the urge to take Thor’s hand in his as if he were a small child who might get lost.

 

Captain America is the first out of the aircraft and when he spots them he smiles wide and breaks into a run.  Iron Man is out next and quickly passes him in a bright streak of light, landing at their feet moments later with a loud clang.  His face plate lifts, revealing Stark’s toothy grin, his eyes crinkling with happiness.

 

Genuine in their joy at seeing their friend once again, the two Avengers converge on Thor at once.  Thor sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth, panicked and tensing back into Loki's touch.  Loki cuts in front, putting himself between Thor and his friends in one smooth motion.

 

Glaring at them from under furrowed brow, Loki hisses, “Do not crowd him.”

 

They both halt their steps, their smiles dimming.  Stark looks ready to argue, but the Captain touches his arm and he remains silent. They wait for Thor to make the first move.

 

"Brother, do you remember them?" Loki asks gently.  At these words, Stark's eyes widened in alarm and he shares a grim look with Steve but does not interrupt.  

 

"This... This is like a dream," Thor says. "I was told--."  He stops himself and looks between them. "You know me?" Thor asks.  "You know who I am?"

 

"Of course we do, big guy," Tony says. "You're Thor, our Asgardian god in residence."

 

Tears well in Thor's eyes, and though they do not fall, he blinks furiously to clear his vision. "You know me," he whispers.  “You know my name.”

 

When he smiles, it is both brilliant and heartbroken. "Stark," he says, stepping forward, holding his arm out towards him, and the smaller man grins, accepting his proffered hand with both of his.

 

"Good to have you back, buddy," Stark says.

 

"Captain," Thor says and Steve takes his other hand and Thor pulls them both in for a hug.   "I cannot believe it," Thor whispers, his arms around them, holding them close.

  


*****

 

The aircraft is small, piloted by a SHIELD agent, with Tony and Steve, Thor and Loki all seated inside the main cabin.

 

"Nat and Clint are still on assignment," Stark explains. "Bruce is holding down the fort back at the tower."

 

“How did you find us?” Loki asks when they are all on the plane. He does not like the mortal contraption, but he is too tired to magic them back to the Tower and so he contents himself to sit by Thor's side, keeping the armrest between their seats up so that Thor may stay close to him.

 

“Well, it wasn’t hard to guess where you were headed," Stark says, coming over to them with a frosted water bottle and pours them each a glass. "Though you can thank Jane Foster for this taxis service.  As soon as Mjolnir here roared to life, the stats lit up her devices, and within ninety minutes she knew Thor was back and contacted us let us know. We rerouted here and you know the rest.”

 

“Jane?” Thor whispers, raising his head from Loki's shoulder.  “Jane is not dead?”

 

“Yes, she lives,” Loki says. "Remember? We spoke of this before."

 

A line forms between his brows and his mouth pulls downward into a deep frown.  “Yes,” Thor says, even though it is clear he does not remember.  There is conflict within him, deep at his core.   

 

Loki's heart thunders. This lie was one of the significant deceptions that abetted in Thor's undoing and it lives at the core of his ruin.

 

"It's okay," Loki says, the words rolling smoothly off his tongue. It’s a reassurance, a lie to soothe them both.  "A lot has happened to you in these few hours."

 

Thor nods, shame deepening the frown on his face, his gaze diverting to the floor.  Ever an open book, Thor cannot hide his turmoil.  The unease in Loki's gut twists, a sharp pang, and any hope that Thor will bounce back as swiftly as he always does sinks low.

 

Thor lays his head back down on Loki’s shoulder and but does not let his eyes fall shut.  As tired as he obviously is, Thor remains vigilant.     

 

Stark looks from Thor to Loki and frowns, sharing a heavy look of worry with the god of Mischief.  This person pressed into Loki’s side is not acting as the man Stark remembers, and he is disturbed by the obvious change in his comrade.  

 

Since Mjolnir revived Thor, he has kept near to Loki, fingers at his back, shoulders pressed together, breath upon his neck, almost always keeping in physical contact.  Thor has said very little, but his eyes are clear, taking careful record of everything that transpires.  Though he now rests his head on Loki’s shoulder, he is no less attentive.   

 

The wonted rhythm of point and counterpoint that he and Thor have perfected over the centuries is grossly out of sync.  The wrongness of it rankles Loki.  In some ways, Loki has infinite patience, but in this he does not.  Every tick of time that passes this way falls squarely on him, the weight his alone to bear.

 

The truth is frank and does not relent: the rhythm of their lives, of their brotherhood, may never resume.  

 

Loki cannot think such things and so makes small talk with the mortals, pretending at equanimity, as if his usually stalwart brother is not pressed up against him in a state of utter shock.

 

 _It’s early yet,_ Loki rationalizes. _Thor has only been free a few hours. We demand too much of him._

 

But it is jarring to see _Thor_ brought so low, for he seems near invulnerable at times.  Though it is a small comfort that Thor has been focused and alert since Mjolnir’s lightning surge, observing and comprehending everything.

 

The pilot announces they've got another hour before their descent.

 

Steve sits opposite them and leans forward, pausing to form his words with care.  There is an empathy in this man that Loki never had want to appreciate until now.  

 

“Tell us what you remember, Thor," Steve says. "Anything."

 

"It was so long ago," Thor says. "Years. It has been taken from me."

 

"Try," Steve says gently.

 

Stark pulls up a video of the battle, recorded from the viewport of his Iron Man suit, the last footage they had of Thor, and projects it from a small device on his suit. The three of them have already analyzed it endlessly, but this is the first time Thor has ever seen the footage.  As he leans towards the projection, his eyes are glassy, transfixed somewhere between the video and his long ago memory.

 

"Do you remember the creature?" Tony asks.

 

Thor stares at the floating image. "You had been felled," Thor whispers, "and I-- I stepped in but I do not remember... And then I woke to white."  

 

A tremor shivers through him at the memory.  Loki says nothing, but lays a steady hand on his arm, compelled to answer his suffering with a reassuring touch.  

 

"You stopped it, but it hurt you," Steve says. "Everything was-- chaotic.  The paramedics came and I-- I let them take you. I'm sorry, Thor. I didn't know until you weren't admitted to the hospital along with us-- that the people who took you weren't paramedics. They wore the same uniform and put you into your own ambulance."  

 

Guilt over this has haunted Steve for two years and nothing anyone says can assuage him.  Loki has not forgiven him, though he must concede that the blame is not squarely on the Captain’s shoulders.

 

"Hey, Captain Takes-All-The-Blame, you were a little preoccupied with me," Stark says. "I guess I died a little bit or something," he says dismissively.

 

Steve shoots him a frown, and Stark rolls his eyes. "Please, if I'm gonna die its not going to be at the claws of some hell-beast.  Steve, you had no reason to suspect them."

 

“You could not have known what was to happen any more than I,” Thor says.  “And it is done now.  It cannot be taken back. There is no use in regret.”  

 

Steven nods, but his head hangs low.  It is obvious he still grapples with guilt.  “Can you tell us what happened to you after you were taken?” Steve asks.

 

Loki has read the doctor’s files but it little prepares him for the horror of hearing these things leave Thor’s lips.  Thor is quiet for a long moment, struggling to find the words, but when he does his voice his steady.  

 

Thor tells them what he can remember.  Many of his memories are jumbled, but he tells of his routine in the hospital, of his mundane, white room existence.  He tells them what Doctor Warren told him, that he is not Thor, neither a warrior, nor a brother, but that he is a mortal man suffering from severe mental illness, that he killed Jane Foster when she challenged his delusions.

 

“Doctor Warren told you that you had schizophrenia?” Stark asks.  “And then he drugged you to kingdom come.”

 

“Yes,” Thor says.  “Unwillingly at first, but after months and months, I chose to take the medication myself because I could not bear the white room any longer.”

 

He describes his time in solitary confinement and must pause halfway through for the terror of it is still fresh.  When he tells them of the time he was isolated, of how often he was in want of food and water, of sleep and rest, of a tolerable temperature, of simple human contact and basic needs, how the isolation would last for weeks sometimes (he marked time by the length his shorn hair was allowed to grow) the Avengers look suitably horrified, their eyes wide, their faces grim.  

 

With a dazed look, Thor sits in silence, his mind far away.  Loki shifts in his seat, bumping his shoulder against Thor’s, gently pulling him from his reverie.

 

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Steve asks.  

 

With a soft inhale, Thor hedges and says, “I am-- I am quite tired and there is much for me to think on. Might we continue this later?”

 

 _What else could there be?_ Loki thinks.  He knows his brother well, knows the little intake of breath and the tone of his voice means the something else is awful.

 

“Of course,” Steve says quickly.  They sit back, granting him as much space and privacy the small aircraft will allow.  

 

Reeling from the notion that there could be more for Thor to relay, Loki doesn’t say anything, instead firming his grip on Thor’s arm and accepting his head on his shoulder once more.   

*****

 

When they finally arrive at the Tower, it’s just after 4am.

 

Brooking no arguments, Loki makes it clear that Thor is to be undisturbed and ushers him directly to his rooms.

 

"It is just as you left it," Loki says, although it's not quite _exactly_ so.  Pepper Potts has seen to it that Thor’s room is clean, the bed made up with fresh linens, the accumulated dust swept away, Thor's left out things have been put away neatly, and a pitcher of cool water with several glasses sits on the table.  

 

Thor sinks to the mattress, looking around his spacious room with wide eyes, overwhelmed by the stark and sudden changes happening in his life.

 

Loki cannot bring himself to take more than a few steps into the room, his fingers twitching uselessly at his sides.  In every rescue fantasy he’d ever imagined, Loki had never planned this far.  In all honesty, he expected Thor to be as he always is, a blundering oaf, but a resilient one, one who would not need him after being rescued. He does not know what to do with a Thor who is so grievously not himself.

 

"I will give you some time to yourself," Loki says with a step towards the door. "To acclimate to--."

 

 _"Stay,"_ Thor interrupts, his eyes fierce. "Do not leave me to bear this alone."  Fear is plain on his face, a difficult thing for Loki to see etched in the planes of his brother's face.

 

“As you wish,” Loki says.  

 

If it was ever uncertain before, it is clear now that Thor is his anchor, his fixed point in the sea of the nine realms.  Now that Thor is unmoored, Loki finds himself adrift too.  His instincts tell him to swim towards his brother.  They may be lost, but they will be lost together.  

 

Thor rubs his palms along his legs, rests his hands on his knees, his head bowing between slumped shoulders. "I feel strange," he whispers.  "This is my life… yet I do not know it."

 

Compassion blooms within Loki like a bruise, a spreading pain that marks his insides.

 

"Begin small," Loki says. "I will help you, one step at a time."

 

"Thank you, Loki," Thor whispers, looking so small and unsure, his confidence gone. Thor may be the elder brother but uncertainty strips away his age, leaving a vulnerable child in his stead.  

 

"Would you like to bathe?" Loki asks him.  "Or at least change your clothes?"

 

Thor looks down at himself, at the white hospital uniform, and fingers the hem of his shirt.  He says with sudden realization, "I have other clothes."

 

"Yes," Loki affirms, sliding open the closet door to reveal a wardrobe full of midgardian wear. "And a great many more in Asgard." Though with all the weight he’s lost, Loki wonders if anything he has will fit him.

 

"I think I will shower and change," Thor says. "Perhaps I will feel more like myself then." Thor looks at Loki with a troubled expression, his brows knitting together.

 

"I will not go anywhere unless you would like some privacy," Loki says.

 

The tension releases from him and he says, "Stay, please. I have had enough privacy to last me the rest of my life."

 

Loki nods and steps into the adjoining bathroom, seeing that the shower has been stocked with fresh toiletries and towels. When he returns to the main room, Thor has pulled his shirt over his head and is folding the white cotton neatly before dropping it to the mattress.

 

Thus exposed, Loki gets a clear view of his body, sees without obstruction how his brother has dwindled in captivity.  He's still toned, but his size has diminished, Loki can see his bones, every knob of his spine, the curve of his ribs beneath paled skin.

 

There is a mark on his left arm, angry and faded-red, specific in shape like a brand.  The thought that Doctor Warren could have put his name on _his_ brother as if he were a piece of property launches Loki across the room to Thor’s side in seconds.

 

“What has happened to your arm?” Loki demands with a frown, and he seizes Thor’s wrist in an impossible grip before Thor can move to hide.

 

And there, carved into Thor’s arm like initials upon a tree, is _his_ symbol, a raised red scar in the runes of the Aesir marring the once perfect flesh.

 

Loki sucks in a shocked breath, can barely comprehend how such a scar came to be.  At first he can only stare at the angry mark, his name etched into Thor with such aggression that it will most likely last Thor until Ragnarok.

 

“That is _my_ name,” Loki whispers finally.  “You... did this to yourself?”

 

Thor ducks his head and tries to tug his arm free, but Loki will not let go.  “Yes,” Thor admits.  “I do not remember... they told me later that I had... that I had cut myself.  I fought so hard not to forget you,” he whispers.  “But in that endeavor, I failed.”

 

“Oh... _oh, Thor,”_ Loki says, tracing his fingers over the deep scar.  His brother had lived a nightmare and had mutilated his own body as a means to keep Loki alive in his mind.

 

Something inside Loki splinters, sudden and sharp, and the next thing he knows, tears are blurring his vision.  

 

Thor has lots of scars, this one should be like all the others.  Yet, it is seeing his own name on his brother’s limb that brings everything home for Loki, how difficult the past two years were for both of them, how Thor was stolen and damaged, how precious this thing between them is, and how fragile, held together by gossamer threads.  

 

Loki will never understand how or why Thor became the most important person in his life.  He cannot hide from the truth of it now, no matter how he wishes not to face it. Shame for his earlier anger at Thor hits him hard.

 

 _“Loki,”_ Thor says with alarm, suddenly bracing him by the elbows.  “Brother, do not cry.”

 

Loki blinks furiously to clear his vision, ready to vehemently deny his sentiment, when tears roll hot and fast down his face.

 

“I am glad to have done it,” Thor says as if this makes it all right.  “It does not hurt me.”

 

“I should have found you sooner,” Loki snaps. “I should have _never_ let them take you _in the first place_ \-- I _should_ have--.”

 

“You _saved_ me, Loki,” Thor interrupts, giving his arms a squeeze.  “You walked into the lair of the beast and plucked me from its jaws.  If not for you, I would be there still-- nay, I would be dead. I would not have lasted much longer.”

 

Cracked open wide, two years worth of grief pour out through the fissure, and Loki cannot stop crying.  He turns away from Thor, not wanting him to see, hiding like a child behind his hands.  

 

 _It is foolish,_ Loki thinks desperately trying to regain composure, so very foolish for him to be moved to tears over such a superficial thing as a scar.  

 

Thor says nothing.  Instead his arms come around Loki’s waist from behind, and he rests his head on his shoulder, tucking his face into Loki’s neck.  Though his legendary strength has not been recovered just yet, in this moment Thor is strong.  

 

Loki shudders and hiccups and laughs a little as Thor noses at his neck.  Closing his eyes, he lets Thor hold him, and for just a moment they can forget everything that has happened and just be the brothers they once were, whole and hale and devoted.

 

Thor’s recovery will be spent this way, in embaces and touches, in kind gestures and fits of tears.  It does not grate Loki as roughly as it once did to reveal this side of himself to Thor.  

 

Thor was always free with his affection, giving of himself without thought.  He never withheld physical care.  Even when he was angry, he still sought to touch others.  

 

Loki remembers his awkward youth, when Thor had sprouted and filled out into a handsome man while Loki was still a lanky adolescent.  Loki became acutely aware of their physical differences, and Thor did not shy away from his curiosity-- Loki remembers his fond, soft look when he noticed Loki staring at his body and comparing their differences.  

 

It left a lasting impression on him as he came to understand that he was not to grow into the paragon of beauty that Thor had, and yet despite this, Thor never withheld his touch from him, never hesitated to lavish physical affection on him, even when Loki both desperately craved and railed against it.

 

Loki is reminded of this now when he sees this great damage and insecurity in Thor, who still offers comfort despite his own distress.

 

He pulls back from Thor, his face red and wet with tears and breathes a shaky sigh.   

 

“I am humbled by such a gesture,” Loki says, and he takes hold of Thor’s wrist, pulling his damaged arm towards him and bends to place a kiss against the scar near the joint of his elbow.  “I will endeavor to be worthy of it.”

 

“Loki…” Thor says, as if to chastise him for the comment, but he’s smiling softly again as Loki tugs on Thor’s arm, and leads him towards the bathroom.  

 

“You bathe and I will find you some clothes that fit,” Loki says.  

 

*****

 

After Thor has showered and they have both shed the hospital garb for Thor’s earth wear, it is clear that Thor needs to rest.

 

"I am tired, but I am afraid to sleep," Thor admits. “What if this is the dream? What if I wake to the nightmare again?” Thor asks, shivering at such a prospect.

 

"You and I, we are real, I promise," Loki says, steering him to lay down with a delicate push at his front.

 

Thor traps his hand against his chest with his own, keeping Loki anchored to him.  "Stay with me," Thor says, gesturing to the bed. "It is plenty big, more than enough to share."

 

It is true, Thor’s bed is expansive, large enough to hold them both with room to spare.  Loki had given no thought to where he would stay. He has no quarters in the Avengers tower and had not planned this far. In truth, he never expected Thor to be in such a bad way.  Leaving Thor now is out of the question.   

 

Thor watches him with a hawk-like intensity, as if Loki might disappear if he blinks. Loki goes to the other side and settles down in the bed next to Thor. They lay shoulder to shoulder, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat from the other's body.

 

They don't say anything. Loki listens to Thor’s breathing, waiting for the telltale cadence of sleep. He does not hear it.

 

*****

 

Something jolts him, and Loki wakes with a start.  Sleep muddles his mind, confusing him for only a moment until he hears a raspy wheeze at his right side.

 

 _Thor,_ he remembers, his arm shooting out to find empty sheets beside him.  He squints into the dark and discerns Thor sitting up, his knees drawn up, his breathing crackling through his lungs like wind rustling the trees.  With a fist clamped to his chest, he rocks forward, hunching over as he clamors for breath.

 

“Brother?” Loki asks as he sits up, fingertips skittering up and down his back.

 

“Cannot-- _breathe,”_ Thor says.  

 

“Yes, you can,” Loki says.  “Be calm.”  He feels Thor shuddering, his body weak and gasping.  “You were dreaming, but you are awake now.  Do you understand, Thor?” Loki asks.  “You are awake now,” he repeats. “I am with you. You are safe.”  

 

“Safe…” Thor chokes.  “It was the dream… You never see me.  I always drown.”

 

Frowning, Loki says, “I see you now.  You will not drown, I would not let you.”   

 

It takes a concentrated effort, but Thor's breathing evens. Loki lays on his back staring up at the ceiling while Thor curls towards him.  

 

It's intimate, Thor wreathed around him, his head pillowed on his chest, arm curled heavy and hot across his stomach, but Thor needs the intimacy, he's starved of it.

 

His sheer need rekindles Loki's fury at Thor's captors. For a man like Thor to be robbed of touch is cruel.

 

Thor’s weight against his body is at once inconvenient and deeply consoling. His heart aches at the contact, a war within himself.  Is it a betrayal of his convictions to shelter sentiment for Thor, or is it an acceptance of a part of himself that he has tried to burn out?  He memorizes the plains of Thor’s face, the angles of his body, the cadence his of gentle breathing, and in this moment Loki can be content.

 

It is a weakness to love, but it is also a great pleasure, one that Loki would like to indulge in a bit longer.

 

 

*****

 

After a two year absence, Thor’s status in the Avengers is officially deemed inactive.  A request from SHIELD is made for Thor to submit to a medical examination three days after he has been found.  Steve explains that it is standard procedure for agents who have been captured to be checked out by a doctor, that SHIELD only wants to help him.

 

Loki does not want his brother in the same building as a Midgardian doctor, let alone the same exam room, and tells the Captain as much.  But then Thor put his hand on Loki’s shoulder to calm his protesting, and agreed to go.

 

Why Thor must answer to _anyone_ , let alone the men of SHIELD, Loki does not understand.

 

Thor follows what his heart and mind believes is right, even when he is afraid and Thor is afraid. His courage in the face of fear has always made him extraordinary, but he feels fear no less than any other man.

 

For three days Thor has hidden like a mouse in the depths of Loki’s shadow, eating when Loki brings him food, sleeping when Loki suggests that he should, doing nothing until asked, drifting aimlessly in his now oversized life like a wraith haunting the halls.

 

Testing him, Loki spoke both jeers and words of jest, but neither provoke him nor roll off his shoulders as they once did, instead hooking into his flesh, pinching Thor’s face in sorrow.  A sense of unrest fills Loki that he cannot even _tease_ his brother in the way he has grown accustomed.

 

Thor is too raw to be prodded by mortal men.  But going with the summons was the first decision Thor had made in three days, so Loki bites his tongue, lets him walk down to this ridiculous checkup.

 

Doctor Banner had graciously offered to perform the exam instead of sending Thor to a government doctor. The lab is high tech and clean and also very white. Light spills in from large windows, though at the touch of a dial, mechanized privacy shades unfold from the top of the frame. There are machines and devices all around the room and there's a cushioned table in the center with a privacy screen to the right.

 

Thor lingers in the doorway, needing a prod at the small of his back to go inside. Loki frowns as he watches Thor's shoulders tense.

 

"Thor, it's going to be very straightforward. I will just check your vitals against what we have on record and make sure you're okay," Doctor Banner says. "It should only take twenty minutes or so."

 

Bruce is soft spoken and amicable, but Loki trusts neither him nor the beast that lurks within. It was a doctor that damaged Thor in the first place and Loki does not think he can ever trust one again.  He is surprised that Thor is willing.   

 

Doctor Banner says to Loki, "You can wait--"

 

"I will remain here," Loki interrupts. None of the Avengers want him around, but Loki does not care. He is here for Thor and Thor alone.  After two years of separation, Loki finds he does not want to spend a moment away from his brother.

 

“It’s not up to you,” Bruce replies.  “It’s what Thor wants.”

 

“I would like Loki to stay,” Thor says.  

 

 _Thor is not placing his trust in the doctor-- he is trusting me,_ Loki realizes. A consequence of saving Thor is the deep responsibility that Loki now feels for him.

 

Loki stands near Thor, not touching him but close.  Looking around the space, Thor eventually focuses upward at the ceiling, his gaze flitting from tile to tile.  Loki watches Thor's eyes dart across the ceiling and realizes he's counting the tiles, a distraction, busy work to keep his mind occupied.  Is this something Thor did in the hospital as things happened to him?

 

"Hey, it's alright," Dr. Banner says. "Don't be nervous."

 

Thor nods, his jaw setting in determination, and he moves away from Loki towards the exam table.  A strong desire to protect him from Doctor Banner compels Loki, but he forces himself still.  

 

Doctor Banner turns away from them to get his instruments ready, opening the sterile packs and laying them out on a tray.

 

Thor breathes out a quick breath, and will not look up as he removes his shirt, grabbing the hem, lifting it up over his head in a quick swoop.  He folds it neatly, which seems so odd that he would care, but then Loki thinks, _he was forced to care about such things_ , and scowls at the treachery of his captors.  

 

He is not sure why Thor is taking off his clothes, but his brother must have had hundreds of examinations over the course of two years at the hospital and knows the customs of Midgard care. Loki shifts his weight, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.  Each article of clothing that falls away from Thor reveals not so much his body as his vulnerability. He does not want to see his brother made susceptible to any further harm.

 

Thor is undoing his pants, intending to remove all of his clothes and reveal himself completely, when Doctor Banner turns from his devices to stop him.

 

“Whoa, wait a minute,” he says with a smile.  “You don’t have to take off everything.”

 

Thor pauses, looking troubled.  “Is this not how your examinations go? Doctor Warren always insisted that I disrobe for him.”

 

“He made you strip nude in front of him?” Bruce asks, the humor lost from his face.

 

“I am not allowed--.” Thor begins, then clamps his jaw shut.  “Yes,” he replies, looking away, his face flushed red.

 

Though Loki knows very little of Midgardian healers, it is clear from the look on Doctor Banner’s face that Doctor Warren has violated some kind of protocol.  He doesn’t want to think about why.

 

“Well, that’s not what I need you to do,” Bruce says.  “Why don’t you have a seat?” he says, gesturing to the exam table.  Thor keeps his pants on and hoists himself up, the paper on the table crackling under his weight.

 

Doctor Banner is calm and gentle. He explains what he’s about to do before he does it.  Loki watches curiously from the corner, noticing how Midgardians understand their inner workings from technology and observations.  It is not much different on Asgard, save for the use of magic.

 

Bruce smiles and nods or says “good” after Thor responds to his commands. He spends a bit of time looking at the self-inflicted scar on Thor’s arm, but does not comment on it.  Despite Bruce’s gentleness, as the exam goes on Thor becomes more tense, a white knuckle grasp on the table, a rigid set of his shoulders.   

 

Doctor Banner moves to examine his head and neck. As soon as his hands touch Thor's scalp, Thor suddenly jerks his head away with a flinch and says, _"No!"_

 

Hastening off of the exam table, Thor darts away clenching and unclenching his hands into fists.  Doctor Banner holds his hands up in surrender as if to show he has no plans to use the instruments on him.

 

"Easy, just try to relax," Doctor Banner says. "I'm not going to hurt you."

 

“Thor?” Loki questions.  Loki is startled by Thor's reaction. He has watched the doctor closely and did not perceive a threat.

 

“I-I must go," Thor says suddenly, taking a step then stopping as if halted by an unseeable thing.  "Let me leave. Please," Thor pleads. _"Please?"_

 

"Yeah, okay, you don't need my permission. Thor, it's okay."

 

Thor whisks out the door, a hand pressed to his mouth as if to hold back sickness. Loki rushes after him, but Doctor Banner stops Loki at the door, grabbing his arm.

 

Only Banner would dare touch him, knowing that the monster inside would protect him.

 

“Unhand me,” Loki demands.

 

"Let him go," Bruce says. "Give him a minute."

 

"What did you do?" Loki hisses, shrugging out of his grasp.

 

"Nothing.  You know I barely touched him," Bruce says. “I guess I triggered a flashback, reminded him of some kind of traumatic experience from his imprisonment.”

 

“I _knew_ this was a mistake,” Loki snarls.  “Thor never listens-- at least that much has not changed.”

 

“Can you tell me what has?” Bruce asks.  “I only want to help him.”

 

“I would not betray my brother’s confidence,” Loki says.  “Least of all to someone like you.”

 

"What happened to Thor was appalling,” Bruce says, his voice low with simmering anger. “But Thor was not treated for mental illness in that hospital. That is not how doctors treat patients, Loki.”

 

“And how would you categorize that doctor’s care?” Loki asks.  It is a perplexing thing to understand, for during his brief tour of the hospital grounds, Loki saw that some patients actually committed themselves and were allowed to roam free, while others like Thor were kept sequestered away, even strapped into their beds.

 

“Torture,” Bruce says, “I was briefed on the report Thor gave in the aircraft and there’s no doubt that Thor was systematically tortured and brainwashed.  He was a prisoner in that hospital, not a patient.”  

 

Of course Loki knows this, the evidence of such abuse apparent in Thor’s every move, but hearing these words leave Doctor Banner’s lips makes Loki turn cold.  Suppressing a shiver, he reaches for Thor’s discarded shirt and heads towards the door.

 

“You tell Thor to come to me when he is ready, SHIELD be damned, they can wait.  You’ll bring him to me if he needs help?”

 

Loki nods once and leaves.  It is as much of a concession as he’ll grant.

 

*****

 

A hundred worries flit through his mind, but Loki takes his time returning to Thor’s room, allowing his brother some measure of privacy to handle these unwieldy, enormous emotions.

 

 _Torture,_ Loki thinks, raking a hand through his hair.  What chance did Thor stand against an attacker who does not strike a physical blow?  It is not the kind of battle he was trained for.

 

Lessons from their childhood come unbidden to his mind.   _Avoid capture at all costs,_ they’d been told, _lest the princes be held hostage or tortured to bring Asgard to her knees._  He remembers holding Thor’s hand as they were led to meet prisoners of war first hand, and though he was ten years old, their haunted eyes had scared him.  Even Thor, with all his bravado, had been frightened.

 

As they grew into men, Loki had laughed and sneered at Thor the witless wonder, whose heart may be big but whose mind was not.  Thor was always two steps behind Loki and his ploys.  His tricks were usually met with frustration, and the blunt end of Mjolnir, but there were times Loki had wounded him, seen the deep hurt in his eyes that his brother would scheme against him.  In his bitterness, Loki had treasured each one, keeping Thor’s hurts like battle trophies in a place close to his heart, believing that was all he could ever have of Thor.  

 

Time has proved that Thor is not as simpleminded and Loki is not as wicked as the other believes.  

 

The door to Thor’s quarters is closed and there is silence behind it.  Loki enters quickly, expecting the space to be in the wake of chaos but everything seems as orderly as they left it.  Thor’s rooms appear empty as Loki strides through them quickly, his worry increasing with each passing moment.  The curtains billow gently, catching his attention, the balcony doors left slightly ajar.

 

He crosses the room in quick strides, but when he steps out onto the balcony, he finds it empty.  Mjolnir sits silently by the balusters, but there is no sign of Thor himself.  Cursing softly, Loki turns back and it is then that he sees his brother hunkered down on the floor next to the bed, his back against the frame, legs drawn up towards him.  Loki had hurried right past him and Thor had said nothing.  

 

For all the world, Loki wishes he could unsee the look of despair on Thor’s face.  He looks fragile, huddled into a protected space between bed and wall in what must have been a place of comfort for Thor in the hospital.

 

There is little Loki can do, so he kneels down, and waits for Thor to acknowledge him.

 

Seeing Thor here, among his Avengers, throws a harsh light on his trauma, revealing the full extent of the damage done to him.  What is worse is that Thor understands it too, sees how different he’s become.

 

“He-- Doctor Warren-- he knew who I was... the whole time," Thor says finally, his words slow as he pushes the cutting realization out.

 

"Yes," Loki says.  “He orchestrated the whole thing to have you for his very own.”

 

"I am so ashamed," Thor whispers. He won’t look at Loki.

 

“What burdens your heart, Thor?” Loki asks.

 

Truthfully, Loki is a little afraid to know what was necessary to debase his golden brother, to bring such a strong and proud man into submission.  Much of the torment Thor was put through, Loki knows of for most of it was detailed in the doctor’s notes, yet there is still more to relay, more that the doctor dared not commit to words.

 

“Tell me what it is that inflicts such grief in you,” Loki says, “and we may bear the weight together.”

 

Several moments of silence elapse before Thor gathers the courage to speak.

 

"He would... _pet_ me," Thor says.  “Doctor Warren would…”

 

This soft admission sucks the air from the room. Loki's heart beats furiously as he focuses all his attention on his brother’s quiet words.

 

"At the end of each day he would visit my room, give me my last dose of medication himself… then he would examine me and ask me questions to ascertain if I was... behaving."

 

Thor risks a glance at him as if reconsidering, but Loki remains quiet with rapt attention, knowing that what Thor is about to reveal is important.  

 

"If I pleased him, he would touch me," Thor continues. "He would run his hands over my head, stroke me as if I were a dog. Do you know what it is to live without the touch of another, without _any_ physical care or affection? It is a bleak and lonely existence. No one ever touched me out of camaraderie or love, except Doctor Warren."

 

"It was _not_ love," Loki says.

 

Thor nods. "I suppose it was not," he replies. "But sometimes, he would take my arm in his and walk with me around the hospital.  We never left the ward, but he would take me down each of the hallways, regaling me of tales from his long career.  He was proud of that hospital, proud of his life's work, and I was part of it. He was proud of me."

 

These little scraps of attention meant something to Thor. They were lifelines in an oppressed and meaningless existence, and Loki foresees the danger of it, his gut tightening.  He does not like where this story is heading.

 

"If I was especially pleasing," Thor says, "he would take me back to his private office where he would-- groom me himself."

 

"What do you mean by groom?" Loki asks, his voice dark.

 

"Everything of his had to be neat and clean, and I was no exception. Nothing was ever to his satisfaction."

 

Loki remembers this much from his extremely brief stint as a custodian. It was made clear to him within the first hour that Doctor Warren had extremely strict cleaning rules that must be adhered to at all times, this quirk betraying the doctor’s own pathology.  

 

Thor takes a deep breath. "In his personal bath, he would strip me and scrub me down until every inch of my skin was red. He would trim my hair and shave my face. And then after I was clean enough, he would massage my body with oil to soothe the skin he'd just reddened.

 

"He remarked often what a finely made thing I was. It... It _pleased_ him to touch me. And I wanted to give him pleasure, for him to take pleasure in me-- what other purpose did I have but to make him happy? But if he was angry..." Thor shudders and struggles to voice his account. "He would make his displeasure known.

 

"It seems cowardly now, the way I behaved, but then he was my everything, my whole world.  I lived by his whim.  When he was angry, he would refuse to touch me. He was disgusted by me. His was the only loving touch I knew.  To be deprived of it caused me untold suffering and anxiety... Sometimes he would lock me away if he thought I was lying to him, if he thought I had regressed and was hiding it, if I was… if I was _disobedient._  And then I was deprived of all things until he saw fit to rescue me from confinement."

 

Loki is speechless, for the first time floundering to find words to say to his brother.

 

"The solitary room-- I would not wish it on my worst enemy,” Thor continues.  “It… it _breaks_ your mind. I learned there that I am not so strong..." His voice trails off, but Loki senses that there are _still_ things to be said, still more to unburden.  

 

Reaching across the small distance between them, Loki rests his hands on Thor’s knees.  “Thor,” Loki says, his voice gentle.  “Tell me.”

 

“It was always such a relief to be let out of that room after weeks of solitary confinement,” Thor breathes.  “To be fed and washed and cared after, even if it was by his hand-- it was a respite in the nightmare.  But then things changed as the months wore on.  Each time he brought me back to his office, he went a little farther, took a little bit more from me.  I did not think it possible to be more broken, but Doctor Warren always found new ways," Thor whispers.

 

The hairs on the back of Loki’s neck raise, a chill of dread pebbling his flesh.  He rubs his hands up and down Thor’s legs from knee to thigh and back to soothe him gently.

 

“I _feared_ what was coming, for his touches lingered, were becoming more… _familiar,_ more intimate... Soon I understood that he wanted to… to rape me, that it was only a matter of time before he would.  He did not desire me as much as he desired my total obedience.  He wanted to dominate me in every way he could.”

 

Thor pauses and shakes his head at the vulgar memory. “You must understand-- I never _wanted_ him to touch me at all… but if he did, he was appeased, and so I was safe-- I would have let him do whatever he wanted if it meant staying out of the solitary room.  It was a game to him, he would laugh at my apprehension and stop just shy of... ”

 

His voice is tight, trailing off as he wars with his emotions to get the words out.  “I even began to _like_ it,” he whispers.  “It meant he was happy with me, and I could be content if he was happy-- he would not punish me if he was happy.”

 

Thor exhales a quivering breath and then looks up to meet his eyes. “I am a coward,” Thor says, “You deserve to know the shame I bring to our family.”

 

Rigid with anger, Loki’s fingers dig into Thor’s legs where they brace his knees, and it takes a concentrated effort to relax them.  The thought of that man _touching_ his brother, _lusting after him_ , bringing Thor so low as to be happy with his own debasement, ignites an ire in him that cannot be quelled with anything other than blood.

 

 _I will kill him,_ Loki thinks.   _He has sealed his fate._

 

This Doctor Warren is a monster far worse than Loki had imagined for he disguises his malicious intent as kindness, his abuse as love, and drove Thor to madness for reasons that are known only to him.

 

"I disgust you, as I should,” Thor whispers.  “I have earned your wrath."

 

 _"No,"_ Loki growls, the word anguished and fierce. "No, Thor. My fury is for your captor, not for you,” he says, emphasizing his words by giving Thor’s knees a gentle squeeze.  “Understand something, brother, you did what you had to to survive. There is no shame in that."

 

Loki takes Thor's face between his hands, searching his blue eyes for understanding. “You did nothing wrong, Thor,” he says and Thor’s face crumples with grief then, tears spilling over his long lashes.  Loki pulls Thor to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight.  He whispers the words in repetition so that Thor will hear and know them to be true.

 

Thor sags against him, loose limbed and heavy, his relief a near tangible thing.

 

"You must promise me something, brother," Loki says.

 

"Yes, anything," Thor says against his chest.

 

"You must never substitute me for him," Loki says. "You must take pleasure for your own enjoyment, not because you think it will please me.”

 

"But I want to please you!" Thor says, pulling back to look at him, distressed. "I want to make _you_ happy above all others.”

 

"And you may if that will also bring you enjoyment, but do not appease me,” Loki replies, “There will be times when I will be angry with you, and you with me and we will fight. It is okay for us to fight.  That is what we do. And we may speak angry words to each other, but that does not mean I love you any less."

 

Thor stares at him, his blue eyes watery and distraught. He sniffles and shudders, but tries to smile at him anyway.

 

Cupping Thor's face in his hand, Loki thumbs at his cheek. He has the sudden urge to kiss him again, but on his mouth in an affirmation of his love for him.  Loki does not do that.  Instead, he takes Thor's hand in his and brings it to his chest, pressing it flat against his heart.

 

"Thor," Loki beings, waiting until he has his brother's full attention.  "Do not ever forget the battles you have fought and won."

 

Thor nods.

 

“You will win this one too,” Loki says.

 

“Thank you, brother,” he says.  

 

Thor’s other hand clasps on the flesh between neck and shoulder and gives a gentle press.

 

"We are unbalanced, you and I," Thor says thoughtfully. "I am sorry, brother, you must bear the weight a while yet.”

 

And for a moment, Thor seems his old self.  A great swell of hope rises up in Loki, the tension strung across his chest loosening a length.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Thor begins the tumultuous process of healing with the help of Loki and the Avengers.
> 
> Also, I had to split this chapter into two chapters, so the story will now have 7 chapters total. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! This chapter was really difficult, a lot of awful stuff to get out. :/ What did you think? Don't be shy! Feel free to come say hello over on [tumblr.](http://griseldajane.tumblr.com/)


	6. Heal Me, part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  For a wild, unexpected minute, the shape of his affection changes-- for a moment, the love he feels for Thor turns amorous.  In that moment, he thinks about the press of Thor’s lips on his own and Loki trembles for the want of it.  

**MAD MAN**

**\--Six: Heal Me, part two--**

 

In his first moments of awareness, Loki feels a blanketing heat surrounding his body, and then a closeness, a gentle weight across his chest.  A heavy breath passes through his lips, but even half asleep he does not feel suffocated by this weight. He knows it is Thor he is pressed up against, his brother's body keeping him warm, his muscled arm thrown over his waist, clutching him close.

 

Since childhood Thor has been a boisterous sleeper, unconsciously turning and rolling until he finds that place of comfort, which soothes his restless soul.  That place always seems to be with Loki trapped in his embrace. There has never been a time that the brothers shared a bed and Loki did _not_ wake with Thor's arms around him.

 

When they were still small children, Loki never thought to question or to push his brother away.  He was still enamored of Thor then, and enjoyed how protected he felt with Thor beside him.  It was not until they were outgrowing childhood, becoming independent young men, that Loki begin to feel stifled and irritated by his brother's complete lack of regard for his personal space. By that time their brotherly bond had grown cold and strained and though they rarely shared bedding, every hunting trip that paired them together saw tension in the mornings when Loki woke tucked under Thor's chin, his arms about his waist in a possessive hold.  

 

Once he saw Thor as entitled, as possessive and dismissive of Loki's ability to protect himself.  Once Thor was all of these things.  Loki felt Thor’s concerns sprouted from the belief that Loki was somehow lesser than he for favoring magic over more brutish acts of self defense, and Loki felt taken for granted that Thor expected him to always be in his great shadow whenever he remembered to look behind him.  

 

Loki reflects on the ways in which his brother has changed, how they _both_ have changed, for he no longer feels the wrath he once did for his brother and his affections.

 

Now mornings are quickly becoming Loki's favorite time of day. Tangled in Thor's limbs, he is enveloped in love, blanketed by need. He is wanted and cherished and feels so when he rouses to find Thor's arms around him. He should be irritated, but those first few moments before he is fully cognizant, Loki indulges in knowing he is loved.

 

Even after having woken, they often both lay still in companionable silence, reluctant to leave the comfort of the other's body.

 

Sometimes when Loki thinks on it, he is humbled by Thor’s ability to love.  After all that has happened to him in the past two years, Thor still has the capacity to love-- and to love _him_ of all people, who under other circumstances would see him dead.

 

These feelings battle within him. In the past, Loki contrived to make Thor suffer, but now that Thor has fallen from his golden pedestal, and has suffered in ways Loki never dreamed of, Loki desperately wants nothing else but to take his pain away.

 

Thor’s unmaking is nothing so sweet as Loki's imaginings of it. The reality is raw and visceral and ugly, a pain that can never be unremembered, that will ache for all of time.  No satisfaction can be gleaned from the violation Thor has endured, and that blow reveals a truth Loki cannot deny: what befalls Thor befalls Loki as well. Thor hurts and the pain of it resonates in Loki like the ache of a phantom limb, deep and untouchable, as if Thor houses half of his soul.

 

Thor nuzzles at his collarbone, his whiskered grin tickling his exposed flesh, and Loki reaches around to finger his blond hair, smiling faintly.  

 

 _I could destroy Thor now, could finish him off once and for all,_ Loki muses, _Put his suffering and mine to an end._

 

Thor has armed him with all his demons, shared his secrets, and revealed his wounds to him.  All Loki has to do is tug at the split that exists and he’s certain that Thor would irreparably come undone.

 

 _It_ _would be easy to do,_ Loki thinks. _I could finally triumph over the mighty Thor._

 

Loki makes himself imagine it, a world where Thor is dead or as good as, and will not allow himself to cower away from the terrible thought.   _Look upon what you so willingly would have wrought,_ he thinks.  It is as if standing in front of a stampeding herd of bilgesnipe.  Loki thinks on it as long as he can, but with the unrest of Thor’s absence still fresh in his mind, the thought repulses him so mightily, that a great thrill of terror and self-loathing shudders up his spine.  

 

Thor feels him shake and pulls him closer, the movement heavy handed with sleep.

 

"Alright?" Thor asks quietly.

 

"Yes," he replies. “Just thinking.”   _I cannot do it_ , he realizes.   _Nor do I want to… maybe I never did._

 

Loki rolls onto his side, propping his head in his hand as he looks down at Thor.  His brother, with his too short blond hair sticking up every which way, smiles softly at him, eyes crinkling with mirth.

 

 _What am I to do with you?_ Loki thinks, a fondness quirking his lips upward in a gentle smile.

 

Thor asks, “What are you thinking about?”

 

Loki will not reveal his true thoughts, and so he says instead, "Do you remember," his voice raspy from disuse, "when we tried to find a hiding place Heimdall couldn't see?"

 

"No," Thor says after a moment of thought, the smile fading from his face. Not knowing his past pains him. Though Mjolnir spoke to Thor of his true identity, many of Thor's memories remain repressed.  Often it takes much coaxing to bring one forth, but Loki does not let that deter him from telling the tale.

 

"We were six and seven," Loki says, "and struggling with the concept of an all seeing eye. You decided that there must be one place fit for hiding and set out to discover it.”

 

“Did we find such a place?” Thor asks.

 

Loki nods. "We thought we were so clever, hiding in the crawl space behind Borr's statue."

 

Thor’s expression grows troubled and falls into a frown.  His eyes are distant as he asks, "Are you certain it was behind the statue?"

 

"Of course,” Loki replies, watching Thor carefully.  Something is resurfacing in that addled mind of Thor’s and Loki must be careful not to hinder its emergence.

 

"I remember... a room,” Thor says slowly.  “A boarded up servant’s room that was our hiding place…"

 

"Do you?" Loki says dismissively, a challenge implied.

 

Thor sits up, all of a sudden agitated, and says, "No, Loki, how could _you_ forget? You discovered a concealed panel in the wall and the forgotten servant’s quarters were revealed. You found the hidden room with magic-- it was the first time you showed an aptitude for magic, but we did not know that at the time."

 

Loki holds his serious expression for as long as he can, but soon a big smile spreads across his lips.

 

Thor's eyes widen and he says with astonishment, "Loki, I remembered something!"

 

"Yes, that you did, brother mine," Loki says. "See? You are not as hopelessly lost as you think. Your memories are not gone, merely suppressed. You will recover them, Thor."

 

"Trickster!" Thor shouts with affection. He's smiling big, bending to press his face into Loki's shoulder. "Thank you," he says.

 

After two weeks in the Avengers Tower, Thor’s beard is growing back nicely and this small thing seems a great boost in his self esteem.  He’s taken to resting his chin on Loki’s shoulder, trying to scratch his bristled jaw on Loki’s exposed flesh. And he does this now, capturing Loki in his arms and holding on tight.

 

"Thor, you oafish half wit!" Loki grouses, trying to escape his playful clutches.  "Stop that!"

 

Thor hums into his skin, but lets him escape, a huge smile lighting his face.

 

“Come,” Loki replies, untangling himself from the dark red sheets, riding up from the bed.  “Let us not waste the day.”

 

Scratching his chin Thor says, "I enjoy this. Doctor Warren disliked facial hair.  He would never let me have a beard unless I was locked away and even then I was never allowed to shave myself. Not after--," and though he stops himself, he betrays his thoughts by tucking his scarred arm close to his body.

 

Though he knows now that cutting his arm was not a suicide attempt, Thor was told repeatedly that it was, and it was conveniently used against him as an excuse to always be under Doctor Warren’s scrutiny.

 

Loki shivers at the thought. He is very lucky Thor is so positively determined, that it did not occur to him to take his own life, for with that determination turned around, Thor would have succeeded in escaping his imprisonment through death.

 

“Well, the important thing is that _you_ like it,” Loki says.

 

“I do,” he says, his smile returning.  

 

They fall into silence as they dance around each other in their morning routine.  Though the locale has changed, the steps are the same, the practice of centuries of sharing a bathing chamber ingrained in them both.

 

This floor of the tower is like a luxury apartment complex.  Both Thor and Steve Rogers have rooms on this level.  Thor’s quarters are made up of several large rooms.  There’s an expansive master bedroom with an enormous bathroom and a study that also doubles as a guest room.  Loki suspects the Avengers would not approve of their current sleeping arrangement.  There’s also a small kitchenette area within the main living space, which is outfitted with every modern mortal gadget Stark could think of, and a balcony with a spectacular view of the city.

 

When Loki emerges from the bath, he sees that Thor has prepared them some tea.  His cup sits gently steaming on the coffee table, while Thor sips his gingerly from the sofa as he flips through channels on the television.

 

“I was thinking,” Loki says coming around the side of the sofa as he towels his hair, “Perhaps we could spar today.”

 

Thor stills.  “No,” he says, putting the cup down with the stern _clank_.

 

Trying to get Thor to the Tower's gym to spar is like trying to lead a mule with locked knees.  When Loki first broached the subject a few days after Thor was found and Thor had declined, he thought him rightly too exhausted to spar, looking not much better than a wraith.

 

But Thor is looking much better now.  Though stronger and in better spirits, he _still_ refuses.  Loki cannot fathom why Thor would rebuff something he used to love.

 

"Why ever not?" Loki asks, his patience wearing thin.

 

"I don't want to!" Thor growls, his shoulders a tense line. He's rattled, his eyes glittering darkly with upset. "Leave me be, Loki."

 

"You should _relish_ this opportunity," Loki snaps.  "I am offering you the chance to flatten my backside into the floor, which _used_ to bring you great amusement."

 

Thor's brow knits together, and he turns sharply from Loki to hide his upset. "I am not what I once was," he says without looking at him. “I would like to rest,” he adds.

 

“You’ve done nothing _but_ rest,” Loki counters.  There is only so much gentleness in him. Loki has never believed in coddling and he will not coddle Thor now. Yes, he is still raw from his experiences, but ever more the reason to fortify what remains.  

 

“You cannot just sit in your room day in and day out. It's pathetic, Thor, and this wallowing does you no good," Loki retorts.

 

Thor will not look at him, his gaze searching a very interesting spot on the floor.

 

Loki takes a breath, trying to regain his patience. "I understand it has been--,” he starts but then is cut off.

 

 _“You understand nothing,”_ Thor roars, springing to his feet, his face suddenly furious, marred by ugly rage.  A crack in his placid, fear filled demeanor-- his anger explodes through.  

 

Thor turns away from him, bottling his emotions back up, stuffing the violent anger back within himself.  

 

“No!” Loki shouts.  “Let it out!  I would have your rage instead of this pathetic display of apathy.”

 

“Another time perhaps,” is all Thor says as he retreats back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a loud thud.  

 

Loki watches him go, but cannot make sense of it. The Thor he is used to would sooner punch him through a wall than cower so.

 

There is a swift knocking on their door and Steve Rogers is standing outside looking concerned. It's obvious he heard the entire exchange.

 

Before Loki can say anything, Steve whispers, "Let me try.”

 

“Let you try _what_ exactly?” Loki asks.  “You think you would be a better partner for my brother than I?”

 

“Look, I get what you’re trying to do,” Steve says, “but maybe sparring with you is too daunting for him right now."

 

"Too daunting?" Loki asks with a frown.

 

“Yeah.  Maybe Thor is reluctant to do all the things he used to because he is afraid he no longer _can_ do them.  Maybe he doesn’t want to know exactly how changed he has become.  We have to help Thor regain his confidence one small step at a time.”

 

The Captain smiles faintly, adding, “And he doesn't want to disappoint you.  It's obvious he thinks you’re the bees knees-- that he likes you best."

 

Pushing down a rush of irritation, Loki considers Steve’s words.  He does not like these astute perceptions coming from his lips, but perhaps the Captain has a point.

 

“What do you have in mind?” Loki asks.  

 

“I’ll come by early tomorrow morning,” Steve replies and true to his word, he’s knocking on their door just after 7 a.m. wearing loose fitting clothes with a pair of tied sneakers slung over his shoulder.

 

“Hello, Thor, I was hoping you would help me out,” Steve says when Thor greets him.  

 

“Of course, Steve Rogers.  I would be happy to lend my assistance in any way I am able,” Thor says, smiling for his friend.

 

“I need a running partner to help me keep time,” Steve says.  “Tony won’t go with me because he insists it’s a pointless pastime, but it’s really because he has no stamina,” Steve explains with a grin.  “Bruce says he’s too busy, and everybody else is on assignment.  How about you, Thor? You up for a run?” Steve asks. “You used to like to go running with me from time to time,” he adds.

 

“Did I?” Thor asks. “I am sorry.  I do not remember.”

 

"Don’t worry about it,” Steve says.  “So what do you say?”

 

“I don’t know,” Thor says, guarded. “What do I have to do?”

 

"You don’t have to really do anything,” Steve says.  “You don't have to engage anyone.  You just run. We can keep pace with each other or you can go at your own speed if you want to.”

 

To Loki, the whole thing sounds idiotic. “What is the purpose of this running?” Loki asks.

 

“It’s good exercise, and it clears your head, tires you out, even helps you sleep,” Steve says.   “You'd like to try at least, right Thor?”

 

Thor perks up at that last part, for he does not get more than a few hours of sleep a night.  He looks to Loki for approval.

 

Loki is wary to let Thor out of his sight, but he does not want to discourage Thor from building confidence.  It seems an easy first step that requires no physical contact. Thor does not like to be touched by others anymore, Loki being the lone exception. Though it seems even sparring with him crosses this new line of comfort.

 

Thor does need physical activity, and really, anything that gets Thor out of his room and engaging in the world again is worth a try.  

 

Loki musters an encouraging smile and says, “Well, what do you think?”

 

“I would like to try,” Thor replies.

 

They dig his sneakers out of the closet and find some comfortable clothing and then Steve is ushering him towards the door.  A pang of worry makes Loki linger at their heels, and he thinks to go with them, but then decides against it when he sees the fear on Thor’s face is giving way to curiosity-- to hope.  

 

 _I cannot become his crutch,_ Loki thinks, _and_ _he cannot become my occupation._

 

“Don’t worry,” Steve says to Loki.  “I’ll take good care of him.” And then they are down the hallway, out of his sight.  

 

As it turns out, Thor ends up loving it.  Returning to their shared rooms sweaty but exultant, Thor is on a natural high from the pleasure of physical activity and remains in high spirits for the rest of the morning.

 

Loki would bite through his tongue before he would admit it, but Steve made a wonderful and wise activity choice.  Thor runs with Steve around the city every morning, sometimes leaving before Loki is even awake.  

 

Nights are still hard for Thor, who suffered most of Doctor Warren’s abuses in the evening hours, and it is typically then that his mood turns sullen.  His sleeping is sporadic, though Thor always insists on laying down when Loki does and will usually remain in bed until either Loki wakes or it is time for his run.

 

One evening after a particularly restless day, Loki catches Thor tying up his running shoes.

 

“Are you and the Captain going out again?” Loki asks.

 

Thor glances up at him and says, “I thought I would go for a run myself.”

 

“At night? Alone?” Loki says, trying not to sound troubled, but failing miserably.

 

His laces are tied and Thor stands to his full height and says, “Aye.” Gearing up for an argument, Thor folds his arms across his chest. "I thought I would try.”

 

 _“No,”_ Loki says without thought, the word slipping out before he can stop it.

 

“Am I not free to make my own choices?” Thor counters, an edge of resentment limning his voice.  “Must I beg for _your_ permission now?”

 

Loki lets out short sigh.  His mouth opens to snarl a retort, but it hangs wordless for a moment before he says instead, “I worry,” letting go of all pretense.  “Every minute you are not under my gaze--,” Loki halts, suddenly reminded of how it felt when Thor was disappeared, and his eyes prickle with gathering tears.  “I fear.”

 

“Loki,” Thor says, his voice going soft with affection in that way that never fails to warm Loki’s heart.  His hands come upon Loki’s shoulders, firm and yet gentle.  “We must both learn to grow.”

 

When Loki lifts his gaze to Thor’s face, he sees his brother from what seems an age ago, smiling and assured. To be able to do something autonomously, to venture out from the small confines of his rooms and return renewed and without incident, gives Thor confidence and a sense of empowerment that he very much needs.

 

"Why _must_ we?" Loki asks with a small smile. Pride blooms in him at Thor's confidence.  He circles his arms around Thor's waist, leaning in close. "Why should we grow when we fit so nicely together as we are?"

 

There's a rumble of laughter vibrating through his chest and Thor releases his shoulders so that he can properly embrace him.

 

"You make a compelling argument, brother," Thor says, "but if we grow together we should still fit.” But then he asks, sincerity drawing his voice low, “Should I not try to venture out on my own?”

 

“You should,” Loki whispers in his ear.  “I don’t like it, but you should.”

 

“I will not be gone long," Thor replies.

 

"You may go if you can find your shoes," Loki says with a grin as he magics them from Thor’s feet.  It is an effective stall for the next twenty minutes are wasted as Thor upturns the room looking for them.   

 

It's a silly gambit, but Thor throws himself wholly into play, being such a ridiculous, goofy oaf in his search that Loki can’t help but smile and relax at his antics.

 

Loki sits casually on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table as he uses magic to keep the sneakers levitating behind Thor's back.  The jig is up when Thor spies their reflection in the glass windows.  As Thor returns his running shoes to his feet, Loki rights the room with a wave of his hands. Thor is not angry, but instead chuckling with delight at Loki’s impishness.  It reminds Loki so much of _before_ that his chest aches.

 

"I will be back soon," Thor says, bending suddenly to cup Loki’s face in the palm of his hand, and then Thor leans in, holding a kiss to Loki's cheek a beat longer than he ever has before.   

 

It is surprises Loki enough that he is distracted from watching Thor leave-- he only hears the gentle click of the door on his way out.

 

Loki’s heart pounds in his chest at the feeling of his brother’s lips against his cheek.  For a wild, unexpected minute, the shape of his affection changes-- for a moment, the love he feels for Thor turns amorous.  In that moment, he thinks about the press of Thor’s lips on his own and he trembles for the want of it.  

 

Loki shakes his head and pushes the thought out. _It’s involuntary_ , Loki thinks of the desire fluttering his heart, _a meaningless reflex to a strong show of affection.  Thor has always been unduly loving. It is innocent._  

 

Loki will not pollute him.  Thor needs pure, unconditional support, he decides.  Anything that jeopardizes that support must be cast aside.  

 

Too restless to stay in Thor's rooms, Loki ends up in a common space on this floor, staring out the window at the blinking night skyline.  He's still pondering his emotions when Stark ambles over.

 

"Where's blondie?" he asks.

 

"Thor has decided to go for a run,” Loki replies.

 

"Oh, and you're not invited," Stark says resting his chin in his hand, his eyes gleaming like a royal gossip.

 

"No," Loki says. "Nor do I have inclination to tire myself through your iane mortal amusements as Thor is wont to."

 

"Uh, huh," Stark says. "But it burns you that he told you not to come."

 

"Do you have a purpose for bothering me or do you like to bet with your life?” Loki sneers.  “Hoping my temper holds?"

 

"One can only hope.  Though I do think I have something that will ease your worried mind,” he replies and wanders off as quickly as he came.

 

 

 

*****

 

Several weeks later, Stark comes knocking on Thor’s door, eyes bright with excitement.

 

“Here, I made you a thing,” Stark says handing Thor a small box.  Thor opens the box and pulls out a leather cuff with an electronic face set in the center.

 

“It is a bracelet?” Thor asks, turning it over in his hands.

 

“Well, it’s a watch, but it’s also like a cell phone,” Stark says taking the watch from Thor and enclosing it around his wrist.  “This button here? Push this and no matter where you are, you can talk to us here at the tower.  This one goes right to me. Day or night, I’ll answer for you buddy.”

 

"My, my, why the gift?" Loki asks.

 

“It’s for when Thor goes running,” Stark explains.  “That way," he says leaning towards Thor with a conspiratorial whisper, "your other half over here won’t fret so much when you’re out of his sight.”

 

“I do not _fret_ ,” Loki insists, which causes Stark’s grin to widen.

 

“Sure you don’t,” Stark says.  He calls up a map on the large view screen on the wall. “See that blue sphere? That’s the watch.  You’ll be able to see exactly where Thor is when he’s wearing this.”

 

“It’s a tracking device?” Loki asks.  “You mean to spy on him?”

 

“Look, it’s basically a pared down phone, just a GPS with a panic button,” Starks says.  “No offense big guy, but you’ve never been good with cell phones. I figured I’d bring it back to basics.”

 

Loki looks at Stark, his eyes narrowing.

 

“Well, I thought _you’d_ be pleased,” Tony says in response to his glowering look.

 

“This is a fine and generous gift.  Thank you, Tony,” Thor says. He adjusts it on his wrist, playing with the buttons until satisfied he understands how to use them, before going off on his run.

 

When Thor leaves, Loki turns to Stark and says, “What’s happened?”

 

“Were you not just here? You need a recap of events? Well, I gave Thor a watch and he went to go test--.”

 

“Do not _play_ at innocence,” Loki snaps.  “You gave us a gift. _Why?”_

 

“I like Thor and he’s my friend,” Tony says with a smirk.

 

“But _I_ am not,” Loki says.  “And you said the watch was for my peace of mind as much as Thor’s.  You would not cater to my whims unless you felt they held some merit.”

 

Stark hedges-- a pause.  There _is_ something then.

 

“There’s been _some_ activity,” Stark admits and he says it in a way that’s supposed to be disarming and put Loki at ease, but it has the opposite effect.

 

“Activity?” Loki says, frowning.

 

“It's Warren," Tony says. "I don’t know what the doctor is up to yet, but he’s commissioned some pretty powerful tech people in the last six weeks.  It’s a small community, not too many get funding to play on the same level that I do, and when someone does, I hear about it.”

 

“And why hasn’t the doctor been brought before your justice yet?” Loki asks.

 

"Technically, _you_ trespassed and kidnapped a patient out of a hospital ward.  Believe it or not the hospital is quietly investigating _you_ on those charges, although they’re not trying very hard.  If we had found Warren _with_ Thor while he was _in_ confinement--.”

 

“ _I_ found him with Thor,” Loki snaps.  “Does that count for nothing?”

 

“No, _you don’t count_ , Loki," Stark retorts. "You’re a criminal and liar and can use magic to create any illusion you want,” Stark says. "For all we know this _whole thing_ is one of your tricks!"

 

He takes a breath and a short step backward as if he just remembered whom he's yelling at.

 

“Look, for what it’s worth, _I_ sure as hell believe you.  All the Avengers know what really happened.  But trying to bring Doctor Warren up on charges that no one can corroborate, _let alone_ extradite him from another country into our jurisdiction when we have no evidence--.”

 

“No evidence? There is an entire cabinet full of files detailing _every aspect_ of his appalling crime!” Loki snarls.  “What of Thor?  Is his word, his _behavior_ not evidence enough?”

 

“When SHIELD sent people in to investigate there was not a single shred of proof of Thor's existence in the hospital anywhere, or any nefarious plans against Thor. They won't release the name of the missing patient, even though we all _know_ it's Donald Blake, and we can't prove that the patient in question was Thor.  It's literally Thor's word against Warren's and because you're involved, Thor's word has lost all credibility. With no evidence in Warren's computer--.”

 

“Doctor Warren doesn’t keep files in your technology,” Loki says, gesturing in frustration to the Stark tech surrounding them. “It was all handwritten.”

 

“Without hard evidence in hand, we can’t go after him,” Stark explains.

 

“Can’t or won't?” Loki sneers.

 

Stark stares at him, anger setting his jaw.  “We’re working on it,” he says.  “None of the charges will stick and it will all have been for nothing. Doctor Warren is angry and on a power trip. It’s only a matter of time before he slips up, and when he does we’ll nail him.  Wait it out, Loki and he’ll get his.”

 

"Thor deserves that man's head on a _pike_ ," Loki snarls. "What good are the Avengers if you will not avenge the desecration of one of your own? You are all a disgrace to your name."

 

"We _are_ working on it," Stark says again.

 

Loki's face is flushed with rage as he storms off, but he lets his anger drain away as he thinks quietly upon the revenge he will extract from the doctor himself.   

 

*****

 

Two months come and go, and though Loki’s pride would boast that Thor has flourished under his care, his heart knows the truth of it-- Thor heals the way the of the tide, with ebbs and flows, in cyclical motion that seems to not progress at all.

 

Things are going well for Thor until suddenly they are not.  He gains confidence, he eats better, sleeps better, starts to make his own decisions, he smiles-- and then one day, he frowns and that frown does not leave his face.

 

His regression is not a gentle slope, but a plummet, a free fall into emotional decline.   Loki cannot understand it, and certainly cannot be sure what distressed Thor so thoroughly.

 

It is not any one thing, but a hundred little things that weigh on him, all of which the shaken Thunder god keeps to himself, but Loki thinks he can isolate the incident that toppled Thor to a specific, innocent moment.

 

There is footage on the news, an old reel of the Avengers in action.  On the video, Thor is the picture of strength and grace, flying with Mjolnir, every inch the golden god he used to be-- and no longer is.

 

Thor watches the recording bleakly, his whole spirit seeming to wilt as he beholds the specter of his past, an image of perfection he will never be again.  He does not yet possess the confidence to face himself.

 

“JARVIS, turn off the TV,” Loki demands, but it is too late.  The damage is done, Thor has seen enough, and withers before Loki's eyes, like an orchid in a sudden frost.

 

After that, Thor falls sharply into a mood. It is quiet and despairing. He stops running. He stops sleeping.  He stops talking. Thor withdraws completely. Touches do not rouse him. Words do not move him.

 

Thor is still, a heart arrested, a bloom crushed.  

 

Though he has not regained control over his storm powers, the local weather is directly affected by Thor's moods. It is gray and overcast for days and then Midtown is blanketed with a constant drizzling rain.

 

Doctor Banner visits Thor several times, each time the furrow in his brow getting deeper and deeper. He asks him how he feels and each time Thor replies, "I feel fine," with a false smile on his lips, rhetoric he learned in the hospital.

 

Doctor Banner pulls Loki aside and starts talking about a mind sickness called "depression" and its remedies through "talk therapy" and "medication".  He explains that depression is a form of what Midgardians consider mental illness.  It is not a linear thing that progresses from one fixed point to another, but more like a tangled vine with its many branches that wind around a trellis.  

 

In this case, recovery is not like building a wall brick by brick until it is finished. It’s a disease of the mind and the mind processes information in organic, non-sequential ways that jump and fleet and flit around elusive as smoke.  One can remember something from years ago as if it just happened-- anything can trigger the mind, a scent, an image, a turn of phrase, a sound from ages ago, and the mind makes it suddenly very real and present.

 

Doctor banner implores Loki to talk Thor into treatment.  He explains that healing _can_ take place, but it's cyclical, the way a wounded tree takes many seasons to heal, how it may wither before it blooms, or may flourish before it dies.

 

Loki wonders where Thor is in the process. Depression is not a foreign concept to Loki, though Asgard’s warrior driven culture makes such a thing a weakness that must be vanquished rather than an illness that can be treated.  

 

 _Does Thor see this as a failing in himself?_ Loki thinks.   _If only he would open his heart to me..._

 

Because of the circumstances surrounding Thor’s current mental state, submitting Thor to a psychiatrist is out of the question, as is putting him under medication. Bruce implores Loki to reconsider, that psychiatrists are not like Doctor Warren, who abuses and poisons his patients.  But on this point, Loki will not relent.

 

Despite his intention to be understanding, Loki quickly tires of Thor’s moods, wishing after days of this that his brother would just snap out of it. Helpless anger wells deep inside him.  His brother grapples with a demon that Loki cannot kill and it is _maddening_.

 

Thor does not want to talk about his imprisonment in the hospital, or about _anything_ anymore. He seems to want to pretend it never happened and since he cannot forget, he spends most of his day sleeping as a means to avoid thinking about what was done to him.

 

Loki tries to wait it out, giving his brother a wide berth, but as the days turn into weeks, he fears his patience will outlast what’s left of Thor’s will, and so he changes tack midstream.

 

“Thor, get _up_ ,” Loki says when he can stand it no longer. He draws back the curtains, letting light spill in from the large glass doors to the balcony.

 

Thor opens his eyes slowly, squinting into the sun before letting them slide shut again.

 

"You are as lazy as you are ungrateful," Loki snaps. "Anything you could want at your disposal and you choose to have and do _nothing_. I thought your spoiled brat days were behind you."

 

Thor doesn't say anything. He doesn't so much as open his eyes let alone acknowledge he heard a word of Loki's speech.  Pushing and prodding at him, Loki cannot move Thor if he truly does not want to be moved.

 

"Thor, _please,_ " Loki says. "See reason. You must get up. You cannot lay here day after day. It is unbecoming of a prince of Asgard!"

 

Though his eyes slowly open, Thor lays unmoved.

 

"This behavior…” Loki begins. His mouth is suddenly dry and he licks his lips, a nervous habit.  “Thor, you are scaring _me_ , and I am not so easily frightened."

 

Thor's eyes seem to flit in his direction, but they do not find focus before rolling shut again.

 

 _I will not let you go without a fight,_ Loki thinks.   _And there are still a few tricks left to try._  

 

Loki decides to tip the balance in his favor.  There is still one piece of leverage he has that could appeal to Thor, and if it doesn’t... then there is nothing here left to save.

 

Sinking to the floor with his back pressed against the bed, Loki drops his head into his hands and lets the despair that has lapped at his being for weeks wash over him unimpeded. Tears prick his eyes and for once Loki does nothing to stop them from forming. His breath stutters and he presses the heel of his hands into his eyes as if they could stem the tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

He lets himself cry, openly weeping in despair, lets the full horror wash over him until it is too much to bear silently.  It is not too difficult a thing to unleash his own depressions, let the sadness of the situation overtake him.

 

It’s a while yet before the mattress against his back jostles, but it does eventually as Thor shifts his weight to move towards him.  

 

"Loki?" Thor rasps, confused, as if he only now has become fully aware of his presence.

 

Loki doesn’t say anything, continuing on with his sobs.  Thor must be the one to come to him.

 

Thor rolls over to the edge of the bed and peers down at him, a deep frown marring his face. "Loki?" He tries again.

 

But Loki will not stop until Thor is out of the bed he has not moved from in days, using his emotions to guilt his brother into compliance. It is not his best trick, but it will make do.  Revealing his own weakness always makes Thor strong.

 

A part of Loki really _is_ scared, is truly surrendering, weeping for fear for his brother as he watches him come apart like a threadbare rug that is worn down fiber by fiber until there's an irreparable hole through his middle.

 

Thor swings his legs over the mattress.  He stumbles a little, but goes to his brother, sliding to his knees in front of Loki.  He cranes his neck, peering into Loki's face like a curious little boy.  There is uncertainty twisting his features as if he cannot fathom a reason why Loki might be upset.

 

"Brother?" Thor asks.  “Why are you crying?”

 

Thor looks dreadful, his eyes swollen with fatigue with purple shadows underneath, his hair askew and dingy, matted down by his perpetual recumbent state, his clothes slept in, wrinkled, and needing a good wash.  

 

But he is upright and out of his bed for the first time in days.

 

"Brother," Thor says again, at a loss.  His fingers dig into Loki’s shoulder. "Loki, tell me what has happened."

 

His mind is slow, but Loki sees the gears turning, sees that Thor finally cares about something--

 

 _Me,_ Loki thinks.  

 

Thor cannot stand to see him upset, a left over emotional relic from their youth. In recent years Thor has gotten better about acting on this brotherly feeling, but now so weakened, he cannot resist his innate urge to protect him.

 

Thor is sleep-addled and slow, but he tries again, "Loki, _why?"_ his eyes a troubled blue, glittering with worry.

 

 _There you are,_ Loki thinks as he sees a small spark of fierceness come alive in Thor’s eyes.

 

“Have I not the right to mourn the loss of my sun?” Loki says finally.  “Yours is the only light that touches my life, and without you, I shall truly be lost to darkness. You have given up, and so what hope have I? You have doomed us _both_ with your surrender."

 

“You cry for me? Loki…” Thor says and trails off because what can one say to such a statement of need?  “I am sorry. I did not mean to trouble you.”

 

He pauses, collecting his breath and Loki holds his, daring not to breathe lest it change Thor’s desire to speak.

 

“I know I _should_ be happy, but I cannot _feel_ it,” Thor admits, looking away.  “I cannot feel anything save for this deep despair. And I cannot pretend anymore. So much is wrong with me…” He shakes his head and whispers again, “So much is wrong, it feels as if nothing will ever be right again.”

 

Thor chances a look up at him as he explains.  “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I do not remember what feeling happy is… I cannot believe I ever felt anything other than this despair, even though I _know_ that I did... I know that _before_ I did... Happiness and hope are lost to me now.”

 

"You have to _try_ ," Loki says, his voice rough from crying. "You must keep on. Happiness and hope may escape you yet, but you still must strive to reach them, even if you fail.  Try again every day. Do not give up. You have always had such insufferable optimism, such persistent hope. It is difficult to see at present, but it is there. If you lose your will to even try, then you are truly gone… and so am I."

 

"You are right," Thor says. "I will try. If only for you, I will try."

 

Reaching for the bed sheet, Thor brings it to Loki's face, wiping the tears from his cheeks.  Loki sniffles and breathes a short chuckle as Thor wipes the tears from his face.  A monstrous headache is coming on, but Loki doesn’t mind.

 

"I am sorry," Thor says.  “I have been selfish.”  

 

"Don't be sorry," Loki says, and then granting him his most charming grin, he adds, "Make it up to me."

 

Thor smiles a little in response and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

 

“Come on,” Loki says herding Thor towards the bathroom. “Your stink was less than pleasant two days ago and now I must insist that you bathe for you are down right offensive.”

 

“Such a charmer,” Thor teases. “But you must do better than that, Loki, if you wish to get my clothes off.”

 

Loki is so surprised by Thor’s sudden humor that a bark of laughter escapes him.

 

An abrupt pang of realization aches inside him. Thor is _trying_ to make him smile, trying to make him feel better. They have done this countless times before, Thor feeling guilty for making his little brother cry and striving to amend the wrong against him through silly, big brother antics.

 

“There is no use in playing coy now, brother,” Loki says in reply.  “For I have seen all of you before.”

 

“Still,” Thor says, smiling.  “It is nice to be wooed.”

 

Loki can't help the grin that spreads across his face. “Thor if you are not naked beneath the shower spray in five minutes I will douse you down with cold water myself and let me remind you of my heritage and I know the true meaning of cold.”

 

“Ah, yes, there it is,” Thor says. "The silken word of your honeyed tongue."

 

Thor moves towards him. For an insane moment Loki thinks Thor is going to kiss him and he holds his breath in anticipation, but Thor only leans in to clasp a hand around his neck. Thor smiles at him, and though small, it is a true spark of happiness alight in his eyes.

 

*****

 

It is a small reprieve, a calm before the storm.  Thor is functioning once again, but soon loses his way down a different path entirely.

 

 

*****

 

In the ten weeks Thor and Loki have lived in the Tower, the Avengers have come and gone on different assignments individually-- up until now.

 

Something has happened to put the mortals on high alert, but Loki is not allowed to know the details, and to his great dismay, neither is Thor.

 

A shift in the mood of the tower is palpable. Though alive with activity, words are hushed around the Asgardians, conversations kept short and affable.  Those who are in New York have assembled as a team-- Iron Man, Captain America, and the Hulk, along with two dozen SHIELD agents lead by Agent Hill.

 

"I wish to help," Thor says as Captain America hurries down the hallway towards the briefing room.

 

But Thor is not cleared for active duty, and they won't let him know what the threat is, let alone have him help even in some small measure.

 

"Help us by focusing on you," Steve replies.  He pats Thor on the shoulder.  "You'll be back on the team in no time, you’ll see." Thor accepts his answer wordlessly, but Loki sees the shadow that passes over his face.  

 

And the Avengers are deployed, leaving Thor behind.

 

The two brothers wait in the tower as Midgardians come and go.  As Thor watches the crisis unfold, Loki studies Thor with veiled scrutiny for any signs that he might be slipping back towards depression.

 

In days gone by, Thor might have done as he pleased, reminding the mortals that he is not on their leash. But Thor is not who he once was and he now struggles to know what to do.

 

Hours later, Loki catches Thor on the balcony of his rooms, Mjolnir gripped in one hand, the other clenched on the railing as he stares glaze-eyed over the city.  Worry rears up in Loki’s stomach like a cobra.  

 

Thor twists the ancient hammer restlessly while his other hand closes tighter on the rail.  Stark Tower is tall and it is at least a forty story drop between the balcony and the ground and Loki does not like how Thor fidgets by the railing.

 

In the past Thor could fly with ease.  Now he cannot. He has no such control over himself or his powers.

 

 _He means to jump_ , Loki thinks. _To fly to his Avengers.  He does not believe he can do it and so he cannot.  In his weakened state the fool will fall to his death._  

 

Wasting not another second, Loki slides back the glass door and steps onto the balcony.  He approaches Thor as if blind to his black mood with a smile plastered on his face.

 

“ _Thooor,_ ” Loki drawls, coming up beside his brother, looping his arm around Thor’s.  Simpering and affectionate, Loki rests his chin on Thor’s shoulder and says, “I grow bored here, brother, and would ask for your help.”

 

“What help of mine could you possibly need?” Thor asks. He will not look at him, but at Loki’s flirtatious ministrations some of the tension in Thor relaxes, and Loki plays into it, knowing Thor enjoys physicality.  Wheeling around, Loki puts his back to the railing but leans into Thor’s space, nudging him in the shoulder, forcing Thor to look at him.

 

“I have been particularly well behaved lately, would you not agree?” Loki asks sweetly.  “I’ve not caused one lick of trouble these many months, but I grow restless and have the urge to practice my spell casting.”

 

“I will not be your specimen,” Thor says.  “I may not have all my memories but I remember that lesson well enough.”

 

Loki smiles and says, “Come with me,” taking Thor by the hand and tugging him back inside.  Despite his dark mood, Thor willingly follows, and even allows himself to be fussed over as Loki makes a show of dressing them in acceptable Midgardian wear to go out in public.

Loki takes Thor out into the city and it is the first time since Thor has returned that they have stepped out together.  It is difficult for Loki to forget the two years Thor spent as a missing person, and though this fear never really leaves him, as Thor gained confidence by venturing out, Loki did too.  He no longer fears that Thor will be snatched from him like a babe from an unattended cradle, but he is also no fool and has pushed to keep Thor in an environment he can control.

 

Thor is grudging with a worried frown on his face and his hands thrust into the front pockets of his hoodie, but he relents to Loki’s wheedling.  The sky around the tower is cloudy, matching Thor’s surly mood.  His brother’s heart has always been too big and it is obvious he worries for his friends, knowing neither where they are headed nor the dangers they are facing.

 

The excuse Loki gave for this constitutional is that he needs to gather flowers for the particular spell he wants to try, but insists that these specific blooms will be hard to find as they are considered a weed here on Midgard and will be plucked from the earth before he may get enough.

 

“Dandelions have many uses, brother,” Loki explains as they walk through the busy streets, “but gardeners here do not value them.  It may be quite a challenge to find these yellow blossoms in the city.”

 

This is simply an excuse to distract Thor and get him away from his troubles for a little while.  Loki doesn’t particularly _need_ to do anything other than keep Thor’s mind happy and busy.

 

They head towards central park where Loki insists they can find the dandelion flowers, but Loki makes Thor stop by a French bakery for fresh pastries and coffee first.  He knows Thor has as much a fondness for the bitter drink as Loki has for sweets.

 

They eat croissants and canales in a sunny patch of central park, and if Loki closes his eyes as he basks in warmth of the sun, he can pretend they are back on Asgard before everything went so wrong.  The weather improves as the morning rolls on and Loki takes this as a sign his tactics are working.  Without the control he once possessed, Thor cannot hide his emotions when they are so plainly linked to the elements.

 

By the base of a large oak tree there are a few dandelion flowers that have not been cut down yet, and Loki shows them to Thor and then points out to the sunny field.  

 

“I will tend to these.  You can find more scattered around out there,” Loki says.  “I need at least three hundred.”

 

Thor puts his hands on his hips and says, “Oh, I am to work out in the sun while you sit here in the gentle shade of this tree?”

 

A grin breaks across Loki’s face. “But brother, my fair Asgardian skin cannot weather the harsh rays of this sun, while yours is made of much heartier stuff,” he explains, “For you do tan so well.  And certainly my Jotun flesh will fare no better in this light.”

 

“All right, all right,” Thor says.  “I do not need _that_ much convincing.”

 

Loki watches Thor walk in the sun, his hair shining like spun gold, the warm light kissing the planes of his muscular frame as he takes off his sweatshirt and ties it around his waist. Loki’s heart speeds up as he watches the casual grace of his brother in motion.

 

Others turn to stare at him as he walks by, this golden god among mortals, but Thor goes on with his appointed task oblivious to their attentions.  Thor knows he is attractive, but he has never quite understood just how stunning he truly is.  

 

Taking his time, Loki gathers the few yellow flowers that dot the grass by the tree.  When he looks up he sees Thor in the distance talking to some mortal who appears to be tending to the flowers. Loki rolls his eyes. Thor makes friends no matter where he goes.

 

Removing the greens from the flowers, Loki gets caught up in his task and forgets to compulsively check on Thor.  When he realizes twenty minutes have passed, he looks up in a panic.  For a frightening moment, Loki does not see Thor at the far end of the park-- but that is because Thor is much closer now, returning towards him with a huge smile on his face.

 

Thor comes back with his sweatshirt tied around his waist like an apron and the yellow dandelions pooled within, and he dumps them without ceremony all over Loki’s lap.  

 

"There you are, brother,” he says, “Will these not suffice?"

 

There are easily four hundred of the yellow blossoms scattered all around him-- Thor’s found more dandelion flowers than Loki had even seen dotting the field.

 

He's about to ask Thor how he found so many, but when he looks up from the yellow blossoms scattered across his lap, he's staring into a bouquet of flowers.

 

Thor presents it to him shyly, with his head tilted to the side and his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. “These are not the flowers you requested,” he says, “but they were too beautiful to pass up.”

 

At least a dozen red tulips make up the bouquet with a few white and yellow ones mixed in.  The bundle is tied together with bands of woven stems and small wild daisies that Thor must have fashioned himself.

 

Adoration dances in Thor's eyes, and Loki cannot bring himself to resist such a sweet gesture of affection.  Delicate petals sweep along his face as Loki brings the bouquet to his nose to smell their gentle fragrance.

 

Daisies can mean loyalty. Yellow tulips stand for cheer. White are an askance for forgiveness, while red tulips are a declaration of true love.  Loki wonders if Thor realizes this.     

 

“Where did you get these?” Loki asks instead, his fingers toying with the woven band to mask how touched he is.  Sentiment engulfs him and though he tries to quash it before it crests, Loki is overcome with a wave of love for Thor that is not entirely brotherly.  

 

“I asked permission before I picked them,” Thor says, pointing to the gardener that he had been chatting with earlier, and Loki suddenly understands where Thor got so many dandelions-- _he asked the gardener for the weeds he’d been collecting all morning--_ and a swell of pride rises in him at Thor's resourcefulness.

 

Thor does not divulge the reasons why he bestowed flowers upon his brother, and Loki does not ask.  Loki accepts the floral gift and Thor beams with pride, but neither comment on why they both blush like lovesick teenagers as they walk in companionable silence from the park.

 

Afterwards, Loki takes him to a small Moroccan eatery where they sit huddled around a small table, their legs bumping into each other under the table top. But Loki doesn’t mind and neither does Thor. They order a variety of savory dishes to share between them and then Thor orders every dessert on the menu because he remembers how Loki loves sweets. And over delectable food and drink, they talk into the evening hours.  

 

For the first time in a long time, Loki finds himself under Thor’s scrutiny as he asks Loki question after question, taking a genuine interest in him, and Loki thrives like a flower in the sun under the attention.  Intent upon him, Thor’s eyes are soft and bright, and so blue that they seem electric under the filtered lanterns and warm darkness of the restaurant. For a while, Loki forgets the trials of the past few months.  

 

They walk home in the dark, side by side, Thor slinging his arm across Loki's shoulders as they approach the tower.  Warm and happy, Thor is a comforting presence that Loki leans into.  It was such a good day-- the best Loki can remember in a long time.  

 

When they get back to the Tower, all their good spirits are destroyed in a matter of minutes.  

 

Tony is there in his black under armor, a drink in one hand and a bruise blossoming across his brow, looking visibly shaken.

 

“Stark, what is wrong?” Thor asks, going immediately to his side.

 

“Ah, the mission," he starts with a shrug of his shoulders, "it didn't go great."

 

"What happened?" Thor demands.

 

"It's Cap,” he says.  “He's pretty severely hurt," he pauses there, the words an obvious effort. "I'm actually not sure if he's gonna make it."

 

Clearance or not, nothing can keep Thor from going to the infirmary.  At the sight of Steve lying there hooked up to various machines, Loki expects overturned tables and smashed walls, but instead Thor watches wordlessly, his anger turned inward.

 

There is little that Loki can say after that to assuage his guilt, as misplaced as it is.  Though Thor does not say anything, his silence is almost worse than a tirade would have been for Loki cannot know what demons taunt him in the confines of his mind.

 

When Thor lies down for the night, Loki turns to him, laying his head on his chest, and holding him tightly.  Neither find much sleep that night.

 

 

*****

 

The weather has been erratic, mostly overcast with glimpses of sun here and there. It's raining outside, a sustained, steady downpour.

 

Loki emerges from the bath and sighs at the window.  The rain is a constant fixture these days. The constant drumming of rain brings no comfort when Loki knows it betrays Thor's upset. His storm powers continue to surge out of his control.  

 

Everyone underestimates Steve’s healing capabilities, and though his wounds were dire, after three days he is already trying to sneak out of bed. The potential wrath of Doctor Banner keeps him mostly in line.

 

But Thor blames himself for Steve’s injuries, for as Thor reasons it,  if he had been there, it would have been Thor who was sent into the fray and the Asgardian would have emerged unscathed.

 

Loki glances around the room and does not see his brother, who had been lying in bed while Loki got up for the day.  Everything in the apartment is still.  Loki frowns and strides quickly to the bedroom, seeing that Thor is not there.  

 

"JARVIS where is Thor?" Loki asks, coming back into the living space.

 

"He left the premises thirty four minutes ago, whereabouts unknown."

 

 _He just went out for a run,_ Loki tells himself, even though it is raining, even though his instincts tell him otherwise.  

 

Thunder ripples across the sky.  Sheeting rain and dark purple skies, the storm is worsening. It is then that he spies the watch Stark gave to Thor on the table and Mjolnir on the floor, both lying uselessly untouched.

 

 _It is not like last time when_ _I didn't know where he was,_ Loki assures himself.  But the last time Loki did not know where Thor was, he went missing for two years.   _Do not panic,_ he thinks.   _Everything is fine. Thor is not missing._

 

Making himself busy, Loki checks on the dandelions they’d gathered two days earlier.  He decided to make dandelion wine to commemorate the wonderful day they’d had, even if it did end poorly.  Two days ago he’d magically cleaned and de-greened the blooms and let them steep in boiling water.  At first Loki thought to experiment with using magic to speed up the fermentation process, but decided against it.  Some things are worth waiting for.  

 

He spends an hour straining, adding the few remaining ingredients, and bottling the dandelion tea liquid and then he puts it in the darkness of Thor’s closet where it will sit for several weeks.

 

When nearly two hours have passed and Thor has still not returned, all reason leaves him.  The weather is terrible, rain and ferocious winds beating against the side of the Tower.  The drone of it sounds like an endless, muted scream to Loki.

 

Panic rises up in him. _Something is wrong,_ he thinks, as an uneasy inkling fuels his fears.

 

Loki eyes Mjolnir in the corner.  He needs a possession of Thor’s to make this work and what better one is there than Thor’s most beloved?  

 

“Tell me where he went,” he demands of the magical object.  Summoning a breath of power, Loki exhales and draws a circle of light around the hammer, casting a spell to help reveal Thor’s location.  His hand slides around the handle and a jolt shocks up his arm.  Mjolnir is displeased by being used so, but it doesn’t matter.  Loki feels the pull of the spell in his chest, like a compass that only points to Thor.

 

 _So Doctor Warren does not have him_ , Loki thinks.   _That is a small relief._  If that madman did have Thor in his clutches again, there would be a feeling of _nothing_ as there had been more than two years ago when Loki had tried this spell the first time and Thor had been hidden behind magical wards.  

 

He sets off, magically transporting from place to place, following the pull as it gets stronger and stronger in his chest.  It takes half an hour, but Loki finally catches up to Thor in a large plot of land that’s under construction, a new high rise that’s barely more than a skeleton of a building.  The wind is so strong here that the incessant raindrops whip Loki like pieces of solid debris, biting and stinging his skin.  There is no doubt that Thor’s emotions are out of control.

 

There are no workmen today and the place is empty.  It seems as Thor’s emotions whirled more and more out of control, he sought refuge in a place devoid of people.  Exposed metal beams are slick with the rain and the unpaved earth is soft and muddy under his feet as he hurries towards his brother.

 

When he gets within arms length of Thor, his steps sinking into the ground as he marches forth, Loki is weak with relief-- and then insanely, _breathtakingly_ furious. Thor does not look up as he approaches, wallowing in his own misery.

 

Loki punches Thor hard enough to make him stumble and when Thor recovers, fixing him with an angry glare, Loki blasts him backward with a pulse of magic.

 

" _Where_ have you been?" Loki demands. "You just _leave_ without telling me? After everything that has happened you think it acceptable to wander off? No, _you don’t think,_ do you, Thor?  Do you have any idea of the grief you've caused me? Of course not!"

 

Thor growls, his anger a boiling pot overflowing, and it sends him over the edge of reason, snarling after Loki with his fists. He hits Loki back, getting a solid blow off his chin, and Loki staggers, momentarily shocked by the strength behind it. Thor has been holding back, his anxiety and fear keeping his strength under such tight control that Loki had not realized it had returned to him.

 

 _This_ is why Thor would not spar with him. His rage is buried deep, but once broached, it flows with the destructive power of a tidal wave.  Thor is furious beyond reason; the thick vein of outrage that runs through his core has been tapped, pouring his anger out in an unrestrained surge.

 

Everything that has happened to him-- his captivity, his loss of self, his abuse-- all that he has suffered is coming out now in wave after wave of fervid rage.  Thor is out of control, a snarling, aching, wrath-filled brute looking to ease his anger by way of his fists.  Loki wondered when Thor would snap, when his shock would yield to rage. Loki, too, is angry, and rises to meet Thor’s fury.

 

They fight, all punches and jabs, just as they had when they were young men, before Thor had his hammer, before Loki had his knives.  It’s visceral and aggressive, a clash of gods upon mortal soil, shaking the ground as much as the hurricane does.

 

Thor's elbow smashes into Loki’s nose and a spray of blood whips through the air as Loki reels backward, seeing stars swarm his vision.  Momentarily blinded, instinct drives Loki to retaliate with a wave of magic that smashes Thor back, grinding him down into the mud.

Loki pivots, ready for his next move, but it never comes. Thor lies crumpled on the ground in a rain-drenched pool, unmoving.  Heart dropping into his stomach, Loki’s anger yields to alarm.

 

 _By the nine, I've hurt him,_ he thinks and hurries towards his prone form.

 

"Thor!" Loki shouts sinking to his knees. He hauls Thor up by his soaked tee shirt front, raising his face above the pool of muddy water, when Thor's arms come up and shove him back, hard.  Thrown off kilter, Loki flops back into the mud with a splash.

 

"Do not _touch_ me!" Thor roars, his face flushed with rage. He is physically unhurt by Loki’s attack, but his mind is in complete anguish.  "I do not want your help!"

 

"Thor--." Loki starts but is cut off by Thor's anguished growl.  His grief rocks the earth and all Loki can do is sink his hands into the mud to hold on.

 

 _"You cannot_ fix _me, Loki, I am beyond repair!_ Stop trying to make me what I once was! I will _never_ be that man again. You _push_ and you _criticize_ and you _suffocate_ me! I need not your incessant harassing-- _just leave me be."_

 

Anger hardens his heart. As he draws in a sharp breath, Loki snaps.  He has completely given up his _entire_ _life_ for Thor, spending every waking moment caring after his debilitated brother, being patient and nurturing and _whatever Thor needs_ and he is rewarded with this ingratitude and contempt-- Loki has had enough.

 

Rage overtakes him such that he cannot see straight.   

 

"You ungrateful _wretch_ ," Loki hisses. "After all I've done for you-- I am sick to death of all of _this_ ,” he says gesturing to Thor and the storm around them.  “ _Stay_ out here! _Have_ your temper tantrum-- I am through with you!"

 

Loki vanishes from the construction site, and is back in his New York apartment dripping a mixture of water, mud and blood all over his white carpet.

 

It is quiet, unnervingly so after being in the heart of the storm, his ears ringing with the sudden absence of everything.  Unleashing a terrible wail, Loki smashes his coffee table in a fit of pique.

 

He marches directly into his bathroom, and takes a hot shower, long and luxurious, then dresses in his finest pajamas and lies down in his own bed, intent on relaxing after years of being on edge.

 

It is beyond surreal to be in his apartment after two years of only stopgap pit stops.  

Loki watches the rain fly horizontal against the windowpanes, hears the wind whip around the building.

 

The storm only gets worse, and Loki grudgingly turns on the news to see that the city is in a state of emergency. The news categorizes it as a level four hurricane, people below the waterline are urged to evacuate to higher ground. Equal parts anger and guilt coil tight like a spring inside him.

 

And then abruptly it all stops, as if someone cut a supporting cable in two, letting the tension escape like the release of a cracked whip. First the winds cease, and then the rain and then the sky starts to lighten-- all within a five minute span.

 

Loki wonders what happened, but then scowls at himself, and forces all concern for his brother out. It should be a comfort and a relief to be _home_ after months of only brief respites between searches for his ungrateful brute of a brother.

 

But Loki finds little peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there during my impromptu hiatus. A lot of thought and worry went into this chapter, I hope you guys like it! There's just one more chapter left (and still quite a lot to tell). 
> 
> As always, feel free to drop by [my tumblr](http://griseldajane.tumblr.com) to say hello (and read more author commentary).


	7. Heal me, part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulnerable and seeking solace, Thor inclines towards him, breathes a soft, jagged sigh.  It is an intimate and private moment, and Loki does not think he has ever felt more love for his brother than he does right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read all the tag warnings. They are all applicable to this chapter.

**MAD MAN**

**\--Seven: Heal Me, part three--**

 

People diverge around Loki as if he is a stone jutting up from a river bed, a fixed object in a forward moving current.  Midgardian civilization bustles on every side of him as he wanders down the busy New York sidewalk.

 

When the world began moving at such a quick pace, Loki does not know, but he struggles to keep up, weighted as he is by troublesome thoughts. No matter how much Loki might wish for a moment of pause, time marches on indiscriminately.

 

A fortnight has passed since he left Thor in the middle of his own emotional hurricane.  Loki has willed Thor out of his mind, or else obsessively thought only about him, depending on whichever whim strikes him first, a frustrating paradox.  Dark threads of anxiety and rage and an annoyance at both twine inside him into a web of emotional mayhem.

 

He feels right and justified in his actions, and yet this sense of righteousness cannot quell this nagging sense of worry.  Two years ago, if he and Thor had comes to blows, he would not have given his actions a second thought. Now he has some concern for the consequences of his actions.  

 

After he left Thor mid-tantrum, Loki laid low in his apartment for a few days.  When he calmed somewhat, he ventured out into the city undisguised, challenging Thor or any of the Avengers to confront him. Years have passed since he’s caused New Yorkers any real trouble, and dressed modestly they do not recognize him as he walks among them.

 

It has been difficult to resume his life, mostly because he cannot remember _where_ he left it.  Looking after Thor has absorbed his whole life.

 

Though he can’t bring himself to leave New York yet, the thought has crossed his mind more than once.  In thrall to foolish sentiment, he stagnates and stalls, no longer confident in his choices.

 

 _I should leave this place soon,_ Loki thinks. _I’ll go somewhere far away from Midgard. Perhaps Vanaheim._ He is not welcome everywhere in the nine realms, but Loki thinks he could reside there for a time.

 

A shield whirls past his head and imbeds in the concrete beside him with a resounding clink.

 

Loki sighs, and looks up from the shield into the displeased face of Captain America. Loki is silent, raising his chin expectantly, throwing Steve a cool glare.  A black luxury SUV with tinted windows idles across the street, which Loki guesses is filled with SHIELD agents on standby.  

 

“You have nothing to say?” Steve says, as cross as Loki has ever seen him.

 

"You are looking considerably better than last I saw you,” Loki replies.

 

Steve takes a step towards him, his gloved hands clenching. “You abandoned your brother," Steve accuses.

 

"I did no such thing,” Loki replies. "Thor told me to leave him alone, so I did."

 

"Where is your compassion?" Steve asks. "You know how he’s been hurt, Loki. He was emotionally distraught-- he was not thinking straight."

 

"You blame me? Of _course_ you do," Loki sneers. "No one has been more tolerant and patient with Thor than _I_ have. And he might as well have _spit_ in my face."

 

With a visible effort Steve bites back his retort.  Instead he says, "I know it has not been easy for you.  Thor _was_ acting out that day, I will grant you that, but Thor’s not been the same since you left," Steve says. “He’s regressing.”

 

Loki frowns, saying, "Explain."

 

"I was still in the infirmary when Thor brokedown,” Steve begins, “but I had a front row seat when he was brought back to the tower."

 

"Brought back?" Loki questions, his hands curling into fists at this sides.  “You mean Thor resisted you? Or he could not move under his own power?”

 

"That day, when he was out of control,” Steve begins, “it took Tony and Bruce a long time to get to him in the eye of that storm. By the time they reached him, Thor was already in severe shock."

 

"Shock," Loki repeats, his brow furrowing.  Thor had been angry the last time Loki saw him. _And selfish and self-centered and overwrought,_ he thinks unkindly.

 

"Do you have any idea what Thor might have thought when you _vanished_ into thin air in front of him and did not come back?"

 

As realization hits him, the color drains from Loki’s face. He has flitted in and out of Thor’s life for as long has he can remember, and gives little thought to it.

 

"Oh, Valhalla," he whispers.  “He thought I was a hallucination, didn't he?”

 

Steve holds his gaze and nods.  “Just like Doctor Warren told him you were.”

 

“But we’ve spent _months_ living together-- Thor _knows_ who he is now!  How could he think that I--.” Loki abruptly stops his distressed tirade and retorts, “ _I_ was angry.  It did not occur to me how it _might_ seem _to Thor_.”

 

“In the height of his hysteria, when he saw you vanish, it touched onto his deepest fear -- that all of _this_ is the lie.  By that time, Thor had fallen completely into madness.  When Tony and Bruce got there, he was beyond reason, and completely out of his mind, _begging_ Doctor Warren to forgive him."

 

Loki shakes his head in denial, his heart pounding like a mad bird in a cage.  Could all these months of progress have been undone by one careless action?  The Norns had never favored Loki, and of course they would extend this cruelty to Thor simply because he insisted on calling Loki brother.

 

“Dr. Banner sedated him to calm him down to save the city from his out of control emotions,” Steve continues.  "His distress manifested in a category five hurricane."

 

“The storm stopped abruptly that day,” Loki whispers. He looks at Steve with a frenzied gaze, panic rushing his words together. "His mind-- _is he_ \-- does Thor know _who_ he _\--_ he _must--_ he must know--."

 

"Thor has not reverted back to the Donald persona, if that's what you are asking," Steve says.

 

Relief, sudden and strong, releases the choke-hold on this throat, allowing Loki to breathe again and he gasps out a sigh.

 

Faced with Loki’s genuine concern, Steve sighs, his own anger abating.  "It was a temporary hysteria. Once he’d calmed down the next day, he understood what had happened.  But now Thor is… shaken.  He needs constant reassurance of who and where he is. He's listless.  And I don’t know how much longer he will last like this.”  Steve pauses, fixing Loki with a steady gaze. “He needs you, Loki."

 

"Where is he now?" Loki asks, eying the car waiting on the corner.  If he’s been taken to a SHIELD compound it will be more difficult for Loki to slip inside for he has no intention of getting in that vehicle.  

 

"Will you go to him?" Steve counters.

 

Looking away, he runs a hand through his dark, unkempt hair as he mulls it over. "I might," Loki replies.

 

"Cut the pretense," Steve retorts.  He shakes his head in disappointment.  “Look, you can't do this, Loki. For whatever reason, Thor very clearly needs you. If you can't or won't help him, then I'm going to find someone who can.  So either step up, or get out of the way. Make up your mind which."

 

Of course it seems a simple ultimatum to this mortal man who cannot know what a millennia does to a relationship, as if either of them could be easily extricated from the other. There will never be a time when Loki is not there for Thor in some way, nor will he ever be completely present.  And if the day should come that they are separated from each other for good, it will be done not with ease, but by arduous, gory, defiling force, the likes of which Loki is certain would mutilate him.

 

"Spare me your lecture," Loki snaps. "I need no lessons from you.”

 

Steve stares at him a moment, his blue eyes alight with realization, and Loki shifts back, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.  Then Steve asks, "Are _you_ okay?"

 

Loki first liked Steve because he was predictable and as such easy to manipulate. But over these years, as Loki has come to know him better, Loki finds a grudging respect for this man has grown in him.

 

In all this time, no one has ever asked Loki how _he_ was coping with all of this.  But Steve is staring at him now, giving Loki his full attention and concern as if he just now grasped how complicated this entire situation has been for him.

 

"I never thought you mortals could hurt us so,” Loki admits.  “Your people have... _destroyed_ Thor. There are shackles in his mind I cannot reach.”  Loki sighs and feels himself deflate as if weighed down by his admission.  "Would that I could undo them."

 

Steve nods, but doesn’t interrupt and Loki realizes he’s actually listening to what he is saying.   

 

“Do you have any idea what Thor really is?” Loki continues.  “You think him like you so you forget. But he is _splendor_.  He _is_ the storm. The power that flows through him brings life to the realms. It is power and strength beyond your understanding. And he has been made common by you mortals, stripped of his grandeur and grace. He's lost things I did not know one _could_ lose. It is no easy thing to watch him wrecked, not by glorious battle of a worthy adversary as is his birthright, but by fear and the common greed of men.”

 

Loki pauses before he admits, "I thought that once he had enough time away from that horrid place he would... be Thor again." Loki shakes his head. "He will never be the same. I know this now."

 

"While it is true that Thor can never unlive his experiences," Steve begins, “he can still get past them with help from you and from us."

 

"He is harmed," Loki says quietly, “I fear beyond mending.”

 

“You have every right to feel shaken, Loki,” Steve says. “Your relationship with your brother has been thrown off balance. Has there ever been a time when Thor was not stronger than you? Where in your heart you knew he could not pull you up?  Your dynamic with Thor has changed-- it will continue to change until you both find equilibrium again.”

 

“Thor is nothing if not resilient,” Loki admits.  "A great stubborn streak runs through his core.  So much depends upon his own will…”  

 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Loki sighs.  His brother has always needed him, even if it was in ways Thor did not realize.  Though he will not admit this to Steve, Loki needs Thor too.

 

“All right,” Loki says, “Take me to him.”

 

Steve nods once and leads Loki towards the Tower on foot, and the black SUV drives away before they reach it.

 

*****

 

Lingering in the dark for a time, Loki watches Thor, knowing that it will do no good to go to him angry. A strain of animosity still persists, and Loki chafes at being the one to relent first.  There is a streak of malevolence in him, his monsterish side that takes pleasure in Thor’s misery, the part of him that is willful and hurt by the selfishness of one he loves so dearly.

 

The infirmary is darkened, the only light spilling around the shades that cover the windows and the various screens that monitor Thor's biological readings.  Thor lies curled on his side, staring off at nothing, his hands in loose fists by his head. Exhaustion lines his face and his skin looks ashen, purple bruises of fatigue shadowing his eyes.  Mjolnir is on the floor by the bed and every so often his hand darts out to touch the handle as if to make sure it is still there.

 

What stabs at Loki’s heart, though, is the look in his eyes-- no light is present in them, no spark of vigor, his eyes are gray as they had been when Loki had first found him, and any childish satisfaction he’d first gleaned from Thor’s misery is quickly dispelled.  Loki moves silently then, like a shadow creeping across the ground, until he is at Thor’s bedside.  

 

"Brother," Loki whispers as he kneels on the floor so his head is level with Thor's.

 

Thor comes alive slowly, first his eyes shifting at the soft spoken words, which then color with recognition, and then his whole body leans towards him as if drawn to Loki by a magnetic pull.

 

“Loki… you are here,” Thor breathes, then looks quickly away, avoiding his gaze. But then Thor’s eyes flit back to his and he whispers, “Are you really here?” But before Loki can answer, he reaches for Mjolnir again, and the power flowing through the magical hammer grounds him.

 

His gut twists, realizing that Thor would not trust his answer if Mjolnir were not here to affirm it. “Yes, I am,” Loki says anyway, resting his hand atop Thor’s as he grips Mjolnir tighter.

 

“I said _awful_ things to you,” Thor says.  “You left me.”

 

“I did," Loki says. "But I am here now."  

 

Thor lets go of Mjolnir and reaches for Loki instead. He palms his cheek and smiles, a brilliant blinding grin, and Loki knows then that Thor forgives him.

 

 _Thor will forgive me anything-- the fool,_ Loki thinks. _But he's_ my _fool._

 

Impulsively, Loki moves forward with a quick, possessive press of his lips against Thor's. It is sentiment, but Thor has earned it. "Thank you," Loki says when he pulls away.

 

“Do not thank me, Loki," Thor says. "I behaved like a petulant child.  I ask _your_ forgiveness for I have not been good to you. I have been selfish and unable to see past my own misery. It is a wonder I did not chase you off sooner. I am heartily sorry."

 

“Well, then I forgive _you_ ,” Loki says with a smile and for all his initial anger, Loki finds he means it.

 

Thor reaches for Loki, intent on tugging him close.  Loki allows Thor to pull him near, but resists enough so that he can still see his face.

 

“Do you know who you are?” Loki asks him, searching Thor’s eyes for any hint of deceit.

 

“In this moment I do,” Thor replies, but his smile dims.  “In other moments-- I falter.”

 

“Tell me,” Loki says.  “I need to hear you say it.”

 

“I am Thor,” he replies.  “You are Loki,” he adds.  

 

“And I am real,” Loki says, brushing his thumb across Thor’s scruff.  “You _are_ Thor, my foolish brother.  Never doubt it.”

 

Though he nods, Thor’s gaze darts away and Loki can see he’s struggling to keep his composure.  Loki does not permit him to hide, leaning in to touch his forehead to Thor’s.  Vulnerable and seeking solace, Thor inclines towards him, breathes a soft, jagged sigh.  It is an intimate and private moment, and Loki does not think he has ever felt more love for his brother than he does right now.

 

"Must you stay here?" Loki asks quietly.  He wants Thor for his own, where no prying eyes could see him and the endearments Loki wants to lavish on him. And it is not good for Thor to be here. With its white sterile walls, the infirmary too closely resembles the hospital.

 

"Yes," Thor says, lifting his arm to show where he's hooked up to a device. "Doctor Banner is monitoring me for adverse reactions to the medication."

 

"They've drugged you?" Loki asks sharply.

 

Guilt pinches Thor's face, but he insists, "I was beyond reason. They needed to calm me or I may have destroyed the coast.  Though the storm came from me, I could not control it."

 

"That was weeks ago," Loki says.

 

"I am a large man-- it was a large dose," Thor retorts, but then he lets out a shaky breath.  "Truthfully, I am still not myself, but seeing you-- having you here-- it is a great boon to me.”  Thor sighs and says, “Even so, I cannot leave just yet."

 

"Shove over, then," Loki says, and crawls up onto the mattress. Thor obliges as best he can and Loki slips in behind him, careful of the tubes that are hooked up to Thor.

 

The bed is not built for two men, let alone two god-like men, but Loki does what he wants and what he wants right now is to be close to Thor. They curl around each other, Thor pressing his face into Loki's shoulder, while Loki slings his arm over Thor's waist. He presses his lips to Thor's golden head, burying his nose in the fair locks. Though still short, his hair is growing out quickly, and Thor's beard is back to what it had been before.

 

"Thank you for returning," Thor whispers. "I need you."

 

"Hush," Loki says. "Let us lie here a while without your clumsy endearments." But he says this while pressing a kiss to Thor's crown and nuzzling their heads together, his pleasure at Thor's words evident.

 

They lie close enough that Loki feels Thor's soft breath pass against his lips as he drifts into slumber.

 

 

*****

 

 

Thor spends two more days in the infirmary.  His progress with Loki by his side is remarkable. No one can deny that Loki has a strong effect on his brother.  Though Thor has always had the support of the Avengers, to Thor there is nothing quite like family.  

 

Thor is eager to get back to where he had been, and throws himself into his rehabilitation routine, running with Steve in the mornings, his days spent training and rediscovering himself, his nights occupied by Loki.

 

Things go back to normal so quickly it is easy to forget Thor ever regressed.   

 

One morning, when Loki stumbles from the bedroom into the kitchen, he finds a pink cardboard box on the counter with his name scribbled on it.  The shower is running and Thor has returned from his run, having obviously made a stop first.  Loki cuts the red and white striped string and lifts the top, revealing an assortment of his favorite French pastries inside.   

 

He stares for a minute, a little furrow of confusion creasing his brow before his expression softens with a gentle smile.  It is not often that he is pleasantly surprised.

 

Tokens and gestures of Thor's esteem continue at a steady pace.  Another day, Loki notices a book on his nightstand, one from Stark’s extensive library that could only have been put there by Thor.  Tickets to the symphony appear there the next week much to Loki's delight and Thor even lets Loki fuss over him without complaint, arranging for tailor made suits that make the two brothers the most striking pair at the concert hall.  A few days later, Loki finds a bottle of his favorite Midgardian wine chilling in the refrigerator.  

 

Loki is touched and perplexed by these gestures, but never more so than when he finds Thor himself waiting for him, asking him what _he_ wants to do, or if he needs anything.

 

And then one day Thor says, “I have been thinking."  He runs his fingers along his bearded jaw, a subconscious gesture of nervousness.  He’s sitting on the bed, waiting for him, obviously intent on speaking his mind.

 

“We’ve talked about this, Thor. Leave the thinking to me,” Loki teases.

 

A faint smile quirks his lips, but quickly falls to a serious line. “Are you happy here?” Thor asks him.

 

“Happy?” Loki echoes. His eyes narrow and he replies, “Why are you asking me that?”

 

“I am selfish, Loki.  I need you,” Thor says.  “But you have given up a lot to be here with me and I cannot justify it.”

 

All these gifts are more than fleeting moments of attention Loki realizes.  “I’ve not given up so much,” Loki says finally, frowning as he watches Thor jump to his feet in agitation.  

 

“Just your whole life,” Thor counters.  “What pursuits you had before I was captured, I do not know.  Apart from the time we spend together, I know nothing about your life.”

 

Laughter bubbles up in his throat, but he tamps it down. Thor will not understand his sudden humor for he does not understand that the real loss of Loki’s life would have been Thor himself. Giving up whatever had occupied him before seems a nominal fee to have Thor back in the world.  He was reminded of this very fact mere weeks ago.

 

“Some things are not for you to know,” Loki replies with a shrug.  “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Yes, it does!” Thor shouts, suddenly furious.  Taken aback by his anger, Loki folds his arms across his chest, and waits for his sentimental brother to explain his ire.

 

Thor pauses, making a conscious effort to relax the tension from his limbs. “I just thought that if you wanted to pursue those interests…” he starts, “you could.”

 

“Are you asking me to leave?” Loki asks.  “You don’t want me around, is that it?”

 

“No,” Thor says quickly. “No, I--.” but he stops himself.  “I just mean I do not want you to feel-- trapped.” His voice starts to waver.  “I see very clearly now that I have demanded much from you, more than is fair to ask of anyone. I mean to say that I do not expect you should take care of me, even though I am glad for it.  If you needed time-- if you _wanted_ time away, I would not cage you.”

 

A bark of laughter does escape him this time and Loki says, “You _fool_. You’re worried I don’t want to be here? That I toil by your side under some misplaced sense of duty?”

 

“I want you to be happy,” Thor says, reaching for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “As happy as you’ve made me.”

 

“You are a cloying imbecile,” Loki says.  “A thunder-headed dolt! Did you already forget I have no qualms about leaving you?"

 

"Ah, yes, I suppose that is true," Thor replies.  "I just did not want to take you for granted.  I believe you would now say to me that you do what you want."

 

Loki grins.  “You’ve been worrying about this?” he asks.  “Things have been good lately, haven’t they?”

 

“Aye,” Thor agrees.  “I am wary of what inevitable blunder I will make to drive you away.”

 

“Well, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” Loki says.  “Rest assured, it will take an act of tremendous stupidity on your part.”

 

Loki expects Thor’s attention to taper off as the trauma of his regression starts to fade, but as the weeks accumulate Loki continues to be presented with small tokens and Thor’s utmost consideration.

 

It keeps Loki up some nights when he reflects on how determined Thor is to never take him for granted again. He wonders how close Thor came to the edge if he is this afraid of driving him away again. The thought is simultaneously uncomfortable and thrilling.

 

 

*****

 

Evening falls, blanketing the city in a cloak of darkness.  Thor has been gone for an hour on a solo run.  Since his setback nearly a month ago now, his sleep has been troubled, laden with nightmares of the hospital that jolt him awake in the middle of the night.  Every night this week Thor has run a great distance to wear himself into a state of exhaustion before falling asleep.   

 

Loki putters about Thor's rooms, using the alone time to decompress.  Though he loves Thor dearly, it is difficult for him to never be alone, whereas Thor seems to renew in the company of others.  

 

Loki is in the kitchenette, mulling over the contents of the refrigerator when a high pitched beeping sound shrills from the living quarters.  Frowning, Loki follows the piercing noise into the other room.  The monitor on the wall has lit up with a map of the city, and then the words _911 Thor_ appear on the screen.  

 

JARVIS comes online and says, “Mr. Laufeyson, the panic button on Thor’s wristband has been activated.”

 

“Where is Stark?” Loki asks.

 

“In his workshop--,” JARVIS begins and then Loki is there in the next instant.  

 

The screens in the workspace are all lit up with the same map and message.  Tony is frowning at his instruments, pressing buttons on a touch screen pad.

 

“Stark, what is going on?” Loki asks.

 

“I’m calling him,” Stark says, pressing a series of numbers. "Thor, you alright buddy?" Stark says.

 

There is no visual on Thor's end, the screen dark, obscured by something. They both listen intently.

 

"Thor? Can you hear us?" Stark asks.  

 

But there's no reply, just the rustling of wind and faint rumble of voices talking. And then a muffled shout, an unmistakable bark of pain.

 

" _Where is he?"_ Loki demands.

 

“The blue dot,” Stark says, pointing to the display.  “That’s him.”

 

Thor is not at his full capacity, but even so, he has run far from the tower, along the Hudson River into Washington Heights.  Loki ports himself there in a heartbeat, a good ten minutes ahead of Stark in his Iron Man suit.

 

Sentiment will ever be the death of him.  Though he is not typically one to maneuver without at least a cursory plan, Loki has never had a clear head when it comes to Thor.

 

The first thing he sees is Thor huddled on the sidewalk, and then his vision narrows and he cannot focus on anything else. Thor has one hand clenched around a cast iron gate, while the other is balled into a fist against his chest.  

 

“Thor! What happened? Are you hurt?” Loki asks, gripping him by the shoulders.

 

Thor doesn’t answer, and won’t look at him, eyes fixed down at the ground instead. He's clutching the gate so hard that the metal has bent in his fist and his breaths are sharp and shallow.

 

“Thor!” Loki snarls, shaking him, the force thrusting Thor back against the gate.  “Talk to me!”

 

Thor looks at him then, his eyes wide and glassy with panic.

 

“He is _here_ \-- _,_ ” Thor gasps, his words quick, chasing each other.  “Doctor Warren is-- Get down!”

 

Loki barely has time register the words before Thor pushes him away with a hard shove to his chest, the entirety of his strength into the movement.

 

The pavement yields as Loki collides against it, cracking under the vehemence of Thor’s force.  Disoriented, Loki looks up in time to see a beam of white light hit Thor squarely in the chest. Like an insect under a magnifying glass, he withers as the unwavering shaft of light strikes him. He falls to his hands and knees on the sidewalk.

 

From this vantage point, Loki sees what he could not before. A black SUV with tinted windows is waiting at the corner, running on the sidewalk with the door wide open.  Upon recognizing this vehicle, Loki goes cold--   _It was not a SHIELD vehicle I saw when the Captain came for me--_

 

And there, in a dark coat with his collar popped up, is Doctor Warren himself, stepping out of the car with a hand-held radiation weapon.

 

 _Warren was watching us this whole time!_ Loki puts it together in an instant-- the rumors Stark uncovered months ago about new tech, combined with Thor's very public emotional breakdown only four weeks behind them, gave Warren a weapon and a location for his manhunt.

 

Warren had been in the city at least six weeks, scouting and planning, biding his time until just the right moment to strike.

 

Loki growls, pushing himself up, and the Doctor turns, aiming the small device at him instead. Loki attempts to deflect the beam of light with a pulse of magic, but it tears right through his defenses as if they were made of tissue paper.

 

The effect is instantaneous-- when the light washes over him, the world erupts.  It is as if Loki had been unknowingly puppeted by strings, and those strings were suddenly severed.  Loki drops like a felled tree, hitting the sidewalk hard.  Immediately weakened, he feels sick as the intense beam of radiation washes over him.  It's the same magic-infused technology that lords over the Beaumont estate now redirected into a handheld, portable device. The wards that kept Thor locked in and obscured from detection currently rests between Doctor Warren’s hands.

 

 _I am a fool,_ Loki berates himself.   _I am smarter than this, to let sentiment blind my gaze to danger._

 

The doctor walks closer, taking measured, unhurried steps.  Not ten paces beside him, Thor is curled upon the concrete, trying pathetically to push to his feet.  

 

“You are as much trouble as they say you are,” Doctor Warren says as he stands over Loki.  “Do you like my newest technology?  With enough money and patience, you can have anything you can conceive of.  Effective on all magical creatures-- even you.”

 

Loki wants to strike this man dead, but he can do nothing except convulse on the pavement.  

 

“My, how effective. I wonder what will happen at a closer range,” he says.  Doctor Warren crouches next to him, and directs the device at his head and when the beam hits his temple, Loki can no longer think at all. Stabs of searing pain knife through his mind. Something snaps inside him and he feels a warm wetness dribble down over his lips.

 

“Looks like our time together will be brief,” Doctor Warren says.  “But don’t worry, when you are dead, I will take good care of--.”

 

His words are cut short with an undignified shout and abruptly the pain slips away. The device is powerful, but its range is small and short lived. Blinking, Loki turns his head and sees that Thor has crashed into the doctor, knocking them both over into the street.  The device rolls away, its harmful beam pointed upward towards the sky.

 

Thor cannot get near it while it's on, but he makes a dash for Loki with what strength he still has.

 

“Stay away from him,” Thor growls.  Hunched between Loki and the doctor, Thor is blocking Loki from his aim. The doctor is still a terrifying figure to him, but Thor has ever shown courage in the face of his fears.

 

“I’m terribly disappointed in you, Donald,” the doctor says, picking up the ward generating gun.  He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.  “You will need stringent guidance when we get back to the hospital.”

 

"I am not going back," Thor insists. " _Never_."

 

"Oh, my dear Donald, as if you have a choice." He points the device at Thor, who tenses but will not move away from Loki.

 

But then suddenly the device stutters and goes dark in his hands. The lens is cracked and the battery compartment has a dent.

 

Thor’s strength has been sapped, but with the device broken and no longer constantly leaching his life force, his vigor is returning to him quickly. Thor is still weakened, but when the doctor tries to retreat, Thor launches himself at him, punching him in the face.

 

The doctor staggers back, stunned, and his driver is suddenly taking his arm ushering him towards the car.

 

Electricity swims around Thor’s limbs, his eyes lighting up white.  Energy pulls from the earth and the air, gathering as Thor’s emotions unfurl wide. His control is clumsy at best, but no less deadly.

 

"I am _Thor,_ ” he says, “and you have wronged me and my kin."

 

"You would take your revenge on me while your brother lies _dying_?" Doctor Warren shouts, hobbling towards the waiting vehicle.  “You would waste his last precious moments to slay me? You would abandon him, whose imminent death is _your fault?_ "

 

The electricity flickers and withdraws from Thor as fear overtakes his anger.  Thor turns then to look back at Loki, horror on his face.

 

"You put yourself before your brother once again," Warren sneers as he reaches the car. "He will die _abandoned by you_ \-- just as he always feared he would."

 

 _No, kill Warren!_ Loki insists. _Slay the bastard where he stands!_

 

But he mustn't have said these things out loud for Thor scrabbles to his side instead.  Gently, he thumbs blood from Loki’s face, his blue eyes glittering with panic.  He must look truly awful.  Loki just feels tired, extremely tired.  

 

“Loki, I'm here.  Can you hear me? Loki, I'm with you," Thor says. "You will not die on me, brother. You’re going to be all right.”

 

Loki wants to say, _Of course, I will, you idiot,_ but he finds that his mouth is not working right.  He makes a noise instead.

 

“Do not try to talk,” Thor says. "Everything-- everything will be all right."

 

Loki tells him not to worry, but his nonsense words only make tears well in Thor's eyes.

 

"Shhh," Thor says. "You rest."

 

There's a loud noise overhead and Thor looks up. “Stark! My brother!” Thor shouts.  “Help my brother!”

 

 _No, stop Warren,_ Loki thinks, but promptly passes out as Thor lifts him into Stark's arms.

 

 

*****

 

There’s sunlight cutting a path along the wall.  Loki watches it for a moment as he regains his bearings.  He does not feel rested and he strangely does not remember going to bed. He's in Thor's room, laid in the center of Thor's large bed, the red sheets pulled up to his chest.  Looking to his left, he sees Thor sitting in a chair beside the bed, face down on the mattress, asleep.

 

His hand is captured between Thor's two.  And then he remembers.   _Warren._ The details are lost to him, but Thor is obviously in better shape than he is.

 

 _You idiot,_ Loki thinks fondly at his sleeping brother. Reaching across, Loki strokes Thor's blond head, smoothing the messy locks away from his face.

 

Thor starts suddenly, looking up with bleary, sleepy eyes. It's almost comical to watch realization dawn across his features.

 

"Loki!" Thor says, sitting up.

 

Loki can barely get out a smile before Thor dives toward him, clutching him to his chest, and then pushing him back to press kisses to his cheek and mouth and forehead in quick succession, before crushing him in an embrace once again.

 

"You are all right?" Thor asks. "Tell me you are all right!"

 

"Let me breathe, you lout, and I just might," Loki says.

 

Thor barks a laugh and pulls back a little, but will not relinquish his grip. Tears stream down his cheeks. Loki uses the hem of his sleeve to wipe the tears away.

 

“Fool,” Loki admonishes.  “No need for tears.”

 

"Doctor Banner told me your vitals were strong, said your brain function looked as normal as he could tell for a non human, but I did not believe him," Thor confesses. "Even when he said you could be moved to our room."

 

"I feel fine," Loki says and it is the truth.  He’s a bit tired but he has no pain.  

 

"You were unconscious for two days straight," Thor says. "I was so worried. I thought that Doctor Warren had taken you away from me-- forever this time."

 

“It’s your lot in life, Thor,” Loki replies.  “You are evidently stuck with me.”

  
But Thor does not smile at his quip.  “This is all my fault,” Thor says.

 

“Warren attacked you, did he not? How is that your fault?” Loki asks.

 

“If I were not a fool, then you would not have been hurt,” Thor says.

 

“Then we are both fools for I walked right into the trap,” Loki replies. “It is no more your fault than it is mine.  Warren deserves all the credit.”

 

"That man has taken much from me," Thor says. "His voice-- his disappointment-- I cannot bear these things-- even though I _know_ what he did to me-- I still _react_ to his conditioning. I am still a coward.”

 

“I seem to recall you standing up to him,” Loki says.  “Did you not tackle him to the ground and punch him in the face?”

 

“He was hurting you,” Thor replies.  “That, I could not abide.”

 

Moving to sit up, Loki asks, "What happened that night, Thor?" Thor rushes to help him, cradling his back and propping his pillows up before guiding him backward.

 

“They were waiting for me in the dark, Warren and his men were," Thor explains. "Warren fired on me from the shadows with that device. Once I was down, only then did doctor Warren step out from a waiting vehicle.  He called me Donald and before I could do anything, his device was opened on me once more."

 

"Where is that device now?" Loki asks.  His memory of events is hazy and he does not remember how he returned to the Tower.

 

Thor smiles grimly. "Mjolnir has taken care of it. Stark and I had words over it. He wished to study it, magic and science together, but I could not let him. He is my friend, but I fear his love of technology would overpower his reason. I would not be able to forgive him if he made another such device and it was turned on you."

 

"I am sure he will find out who made it anyway.  It is simply a matter of time," Loki says.

 

"Aye," Thor replies, "but I will not be a party to our unmaking."

 

Thor leans in, his hand cupping Loki's cheek, his eyes searching his face.  Though he says nothing, fear flickers across his features and Loki realizes that the prospect of losing him genuinely terrifies Thor.

 

With a quick peck of lips, Thor kisses him again and says, "I will fetch you food and drink, but you should continue to rest."

 

As Loki watches him leave, he touches his fingers to his lips, his heart beating a little faster.  They've kissed each other dozens of times, gestures of affection, but something feels different this time-- Thor’s lingering touch, the coloring of his eyes a brighter shade of blue suggest a different intention entirely.

 

*****

 

The little touches between them rouse strong emotions in Loki, a single brush of Thor's skin against his own sets him on fire.

 

Thor has always been physically demonstrative, though now perhaps more so than ever. For two years he'd been starved of loving touch and so Loki has indulged him in ways he never has before.

 

When Thor slings his arm across Loki's shoulder, Loki finds he still fits well into that protected space against Thor's side.

 

They share kisses more and more frequently, something that had stopped when Thor reached his teenage years. But now Thor presses them to his hair and cheek and lips as if it is something he has always done. Loki returns each kiss as if this is something _he_ has always done.

 

There's something building inside him that he refuses to name, but the feeling smothers him when Thor is near, makes his heart shiver and his mood brighten. Loki finds he does not want to be separated from Thor no matter how much his rational mind protests.

 

It is madness.  Thor is his _brother,_ but Loki finds that matters little.  Brother was always the wrong word to describe what Thor is to him, but Loki is only now beginning to understand why. They _had_ been brothers once when they were children, but they had grown up and too far apart and what Loki feels for Thor now is something beyond brotherhood, something he should not feel for this man who shared his crib and once engendered homicidal feelings in him.

 

When Thor reaches for his hand and sits closely next to him, pressing his thigh against Loki's, Loki would swear that Thor is afflicted by the same madness.

 

They continue to share a bed, Thor clinging to him at night as if he will vanish.  It's hot and suffocating and intolerable, but Loki cannot bear the thought of the alternative. Loki would rather suffer these indignities than never have Thor beneath his hands again.

 

They don't talk about this newfound intimacy, both afraid drawing attention to it will chase this closeness away, like a deer catching wind of a hunter and disappearing into the woods. Loki wants to rile and push away these soft feelings, and at the same time cling to Thor for dear life.  

 

One day, Captain America escorts Jane Foster into the Tower, but she runs when she sees Thor and his stricken expression.  It’s been over five months since Jane tipped off the Avengers about Mjolnir's activity, and it's taken all that time to arrange this reunion.

 

“Oh, Jane,” he says, enveloping her tiny frame in his arms.  “Doctor Warren told me I killed you. He said-- _he said--._ ”

 

“It’s all right now,” Jane says, holding him tight.  “It’s all over,” she says and Thor weeps tears of relief.

 

Jane kisses his cheek and holds his hand and listens as he tells the story.

 

Loki sees they way they look at each other and feels a fool, his cheeks flushing with anger and shame and heartbreak. He retreats quickly, silently and unnoticed.

 

 

*****

 

 

It is late when the bedroom door opens and Thor steps through.  Loki did not mean to wait up for Thor, but he could not bring himself to lie down, instead staring senselessly out the window as his mind runs in exhaustive circles.

 

“Loki?” Thor asks as he closes the door behind him.  “You left so quickly. You did not say goodbye.”

 

“I thought you wanted to spend some time alone with Jane,” he says.  He keeps his voice low and careful, but in some ways this is even more a telltale sign that he is upset.

 

“Lo-keeey,” Thor singsongs, coming up behind him.  “Do not sulk, brother.”

 

“I am doing no such thing,” Loki retorts.  “I do not _sulk,_ ” he says, even though that is exactly what he is doing.

 

Thor puts a hand on Loki’s waist but he slips from Thor’s grasp.  “I merely wanted to talk with Jane.  I spent a long time thinking that she had perished by my own hand,” Thor explains.  “You understand, don’t you?”

 

“Oh, I understand,” Loki spits.  His heart is palpitating.  Loki doesn’t have a plan.  He looks at Thor, at his gentle smile and concerned eyes and wonders if he looked at Jane like that.  Hurt and foolish spite whirl up inside him.

 

Thor is suddenly there in his space, cornering him against the wall between the span of his arms.  “No, brother, I don’t think that you do," he says, his voice soft as he studies Loki's face.

 

“You love _her_ ,” Loki challenges. It's fear wrapped in petty jealousy that pours out of him.  He cannot stop it, so he clings to the edge that cuts him.

 

“Aye,” Thor admits.  “But I also love you, Loki.”

 

“Not in the same way,” Loki blurts out, the words darting free of their own volition.  “You do not love me as you love her.”

 

And that's it, the crux of his distress.  Like a prize fool, he's divulged his greatest vulnerability, handing Thor a weapon to destroy him with. Anger and fear rear up inside him and he tries to flee, wanting distance between himself and his confession as if to make it somehow smaller and less earnest, but he is completely trapped between Thor's arms and the wall having no mind for sorcery at the moment.

 

“Aye,” Thor says again.  “I do not.”  But then Thor cants his head and fits his hand around Loki’s jaw, his eyes darting to Loki’s lips.  And then Thor’s mouth is on his and it's much more than any chaste kiss of comfort they've shared.   

 

Loki opens his mouth and Thor's arms circle around him and he thinks, _oh,_ and _yes, this_ , before his rationale catches up.

 

 _I must stop,_ Loki thinks, _Thor doesn't know what he's doing_ , and when Loki draws back from him, a strangled moan of need escapes his brother, the sound bereaved enough that in the next instant Loki pulls Thor back to him, cradling him close.

 

Like long lost lovers, they kiss and cling and writhe against each other, finding they fit together this way too. Thor deftly moves them from the wall and he bends Loki backward towards the bed, his mouth working along his neck as he lowers Loki onto the mattress.

 

“Thor,” Loki whispers around a gasp.  “Stop and think.  You don’t really want this.”

 

But by the Norns, Loki finds that _he_ does.  Never did Loki allow his thoughts to go down this twisted path that led him here, to this moment where all the affection he has for Thor burns quickly into lust.  One of the greatest lies he ever told himself was that his hatred of Thor had not stemmed from a deep heartbreak, from a heart that had once been in love with his golden brother.

 

But now with Thor pressed up against him, Loki allows himself these thoughts.

 

 _Yes, why not this?_ Loki thinks as the heat of Thor’s body seeps into his skin. _I love him completely-- I want him completely. No other shall touch him, nor be touched by him in this way. He is mine, as I am his, just as should ever be._

 

"Don't tell me what I want," Thor replies, pushing himself up so he can look into Loki's eyes.  

 

“Thor, this is important,” Loki says, sliding his hands down from his broad shoulders and onto his chest, prodding him back gently, but steadily.  “You must assure me you want to pursue whatever this is with me.”

 

“I do,” Thor insists.

 

“You have been... _abused_ ,” Loki begins, his mouth twisting around the ugly word, “in this manner.  I will not forgive myself this transgression. I cannot become a monster such as he--.”

 

“You are no monster!” Thor shouts.  “If anyone is a monster, it is I.  I must confess my want of you started long before my imprisonment.”

 

It is not often that Loki is dumbfounded.

 

 _"What?"_ he asks. “You don’t want me-- You never have!”

 

“I told you.  Stop telling me what I want,” Thor says.  “I will explain as best I can.  When we were foolish young men, a hundred times I caught myself looking at you with longing-- and when I realized _what_ it was I wanted, I knew such a thing was a forbidden and fruitless endeavor.  It could never be, so I held you firmly at arm’s length.  Never closer, but never farther either.  I would never have touched you, Loki. I would have lived my whole life simply content to have you in it. I would never have acted on this impulse, but lately I felt my feelings were... reciprocated."

 

Loki still cannot comprehend that Thor wanted him for years, kept a secret from him, even denied his impulses.  "You desired me?" Loki whispers, still trying to catch up.

 

"Aye," Thor says. "You have always held my heart, brother, but you have never understood how close. I became contented to have whatever affection you would bestow upon me, and admittedly it was not much. But it has never been much of a secret that I love you above all others.”

 

Loki approaches him slowly, reaching up and taking Thor's face between his hands.  “Sentiment… is not easy for me, Thor,” Loki says.  “I am not easy to love.  I may hurt you,” Loki says.  "In the end, I may even _enjoy_ hurting you."

 

"I know," Thor says, "and knowing all of that cannot deter me from loving you... unless you do not want me to."

 

It takes little effort to pull Thor towards him.  Tilting his head, Loki bestows a series of gentle, coaxing kisses on Thor's lips that gradually become more heated.  Threading his fingers through Thor's blond hair, Loki tightens his grip, keeping their mouths together.

 

"Loki," Thor gasps around kisses, "I have not been... _intimate_ with anyone in a long time," he confesses.

 

"Well, you didn't forget did you?" Loki asks with gentle teasing.

 

Thor blushes and averts his gaze and Loki finds his sudden bashfulness endearing. "No," he says, "but I... I want to be _good_ for you."

 

Loki should be fraught with trepidation-- his brother, his beautiful, caring, broken brother, holding him in a lover’s embrace, but it is easy to lean into Thor, to close the distance between their bodies.

 

It would be sensible to take it slow, but they have known each other a millennia and it is not so difficult to fall into a carnal bed.  They’re both hard and flushed and undress quickly, casting off clothing in between kisses, laughing gently at the blunders they make in their haste.

 

Thor’s physique is magnificent and Loki runs his palms over the muscled chest he knows so well with new appreciation.  This body is a powerhouse and there will be time to test Thor's endurance later.  For the moment, Loki wants to tread carefully.  After the nightmare he suffered at the hands of Doctor Warren, Loki does not know what Thor is ready for.  

 

When Thor kisses him this time, Loki understands now that every kiss Thor has given him should have been like this, a lover's kiss. Thor is gorgeous, always has been, but he's even more breathtaking with his attention focused solely on Loki, his eyes electric blue and half lidded with desire.

 

Their lips are bruised, flushed red as they kiss and mouth and bite at each other.  Though hesitant at first, Thor responds beautifully to the demands of Loki's body.  Stretching out on top of him, Thor worships Loki, leaving no inch of his skin unadored.

 

Emotion strikes swiftly at Loki's heart, and unprepared for it, Loki trembles, and squeezes his eyes closed as if to hide himself.  Loki thought he knew what it would mean to be loved by Thor, to receive his most intimate affections, had anticipated the physicality of sex with Thor, but the reality of what it feels like emotionally has left him more exposed and vulnerable than he has ever felt in his life.

 

That Thor could love him this much, he cannot bear it-- cannot ascribe this act to primal urges and a need to satiate his physical lust-- cannot fathom that Thor could make him feel revered and worthy. Not knowing what to do with feeling undeniably, irrevocably loved, Loki turns his face away and lets out a sob.

 

Thor noses at his cheek, presses his lips to his jaw. "Do you want me to stop?" Thor asks him, and, as aroused as he is, Loki knows if he said the word, Thor would stop.  This immense man, who is broken and has endured so much, is gentle with him, handling him more tenderly than he knows he deserves.  

 

"Don't you dare," Loki whispers, and holds on tighter, digging his nails into Thor’s back to frustrate his brother’s gentleness.  

 

All of Thor’s attention is focused on him is arousing and intoxicating him.  Writhing against each other desperate for friction, a blush creeps along his face and Loki’s breath suddenly quickens.

 

"Tell me what _you_ want," Loki gasps.

 

"I want to taste you," Thor says, kissing his pale line of throat. "I want your hands on me.  I want my name on your lips.”  

 

And then Thor's mouth is on him again, kissing hot trails down the plains of his torso, taking one of his nipples between his lips until it hardens in response.  "What do you want?" Thor asks against his skin.

 

Loki knows exactly what he wants and summons a jar of oil from the kitchenette and puts it in Thor’s hands.  “I want you to fuck me,” Loki says.  

 

Lying back, his hair splayed across the red sheets, Loki shifts his legs apart as Thor trails his hands along the pale skin of his thighs, his touch reverent and gentle, slicked up fingers finding their way within him.  Next time, they will have something more appropriate to use, but the oil fulfills its appointed task.  

 

Loki is worked open and plenty ready when Thor finally lines up the head of his cock, pushing slowly until he’s seated fully inside him.  He leans down, chest flush to Loki’s, kissing him deeply as Loki adjusts to his girth. Loki’s hands trail down his back, cupping around Thor’s ass as he rocks into him with tempered, leisurely thrusts.  Thor feels impossibly large and Loki can only gasp open mouthed when he picks up the pace.

 

Loki hears himself whining, but can't stop his pleasured whimpers. He wants Thor to mark him, claim him as his own and Loki wants his chance to do the same.

 

“Oh, Thor,” Loki whispers. “Yes, brother, like that.”

 

This act should seem deviant, but all Loki knows is it's perfection. Thor is a powerhouse, virile and beautiful and completely his.  Thor stills, his blue eyes lidded with desire, and when he comes, it’s Loki's name he moans.  Thor pulls out and bats Loki’s hand away from his own cock, and that is all the warning Loki gets before Thor goes down on him, his hot mouth sealing around his length. Loki was not expecting Thor to suck him off and curses and twines his fingers in Thor’s hair. He’s soon sent over the edge, spilling into Thor's mouth with a shout and Thor just grins wickedly and wipes his lips.  

 

Loki lies there, breathing hard and spent and Thor crawls up on top of him, nudging his cheek with his bearded chin before kissing him gently.  He rests his arms on either side of Loki's head, smoothing the wayward hair from Loki’s face.  

 

“Have I ruined us?” Thor asks looking down at him, his eyes glittering with a trace of concern.  “Have I abused your care and taken advantage of you?”

 

“That depends,” Loki says.  “Do you intend to cast me off?”

 

His eyes widen. “No, never!” he say,s and in this moment, Loki knows Thor means it.

 

“Then, fool, be still,” Loki says, stretching up for another kiss.

 

Thor knows better than to confess his feelings aloud, and yet Loki feels loved.  Happiness flourishes within him and Loki chases the feeling.

 

*****

 

They're not exactly subtle about this new aspect of their relationship.  Discretion has never been Thor's strong suit, and Loki enjoys both a bit of exhibitionism and the way Thor blushes when he gropes him in front of everybody.

 

Tony can't stop smirking whenever he's in the same room as Loki and he's fairly confident the only reason Tony hasn't made more than a few quips yet is because Steve Rogers shuts down all his comments with a sharp word and then the remainder of Tony's short attention span is spent on making Steve turn red.

 

Loki does not question the morality of sleeping with one he calls brother.  He has done lots of things deemed terrible by others and it does not bother him.

 

Loki tries to use their nighttime activities as an excuse to keep Thor in bed in the mornings, but Thor still rises early to go on his runs, if sometimes delayed for a little morning coitus. This morning is no exception on either count.  

 

Once Loki rises for the day, he finds himself in front of the are large glass windows in the corridor with a spectacular view of the city.  Loki pauses there to look out, wondering where Thor is in the world below.

 

Loki thinks that maybe he’s happy, but he hesitates to embrace it fully. If Thor had not been his brother, he wonders if they would have come together sooner or perhaps not at all.  For now, he lets himself be content. He knows himself and knows contentment is not in his nature to last, but he will attempt to hold onto happiness as best he can.

 

He can't believe in the hundreds of years they spent clearly pining after one another, it took them this long to figure it out, but it occurs to him that he didn't know this is what he wanted. Or maybe he did, and he just couldn't admit it because it was something he thought he could never have.

 

His attention is drawn outward, to the sky that is rapidly turning from blue to gray. Such a thing can only be Thor's doing and it fills him with trepidation. Dark with storm clouds, the heavens suddenly open with a deluge of rain.  It pours down from the sky in thick sheets of water.  A roll of thunder booms, a sound so furious that it rattles the very building.

 

"The roof," Loki whispers, and is there in the next instant. Wind whips at him and the rain soaks him through in seconds.

 

Thor is across the roof near the ledge, his face turned upward, eyes closed. Small charges of electricity wend around his body and down his arm into Mjolnir.

 

Loki calls his name but the wind carried it away. Thor does not hear him.

 

Thor opens his arms, palms upward and a large bolt of lightning is called down from the sky. It electrifies everything and Thor seems to glow. His eyes are white, glowing electric.

 

Loki watches, his eyes wide, his heart racing. This is Thor as he remembers him, strong, powerful, in his element. Seeing Thor this way rouses him, kindles a great yearning in his body.

 

Thor is magnificent in his element, virile and beautiful.

 

The lightning recedes and Thor turns suddenly, looking at him.  Loki ventures further onto the roof and calls out to him, "Are you all--." But by then Thor reaches him and yanks him close, pulling Loki to his hip, kissing him soundly. Little charges of electricity shock Loki as Thor tongues his way into his mouth.

 

Thor pulls back and grasps Loki by the shoulders. "Brother, did you see?" He is elated, giddy with the recovery of his storm powers.  “Did you see what I did?”

 

 _This man_... Loki thinks. _I did not think it possible for him to claim more of my heart._

 

“Yes,” Loki says with a gentle laugh.  “I think all of New York saw what you did.”

 

Thor smiles broadly. He’s proud and happy in a way that Loki has not seen since his rescue.

 

“More,” Loki says.  “Show me more.” And Thor does, conjuring up wind and rain and lightning and dispelling them all at his whim.

 

Loki doesn't even care who might be watching and Loki drags Thor to him, kissing him hard in the rain. He's flush against Thor, but still wants to be closer.  Thor snakes his arms around him and hefts him up around his waist.

 

Loki is hard and can feel Thor's erection pushing up against him.

 

"Take me here," Loki says between kisses. "Right here in your rain storm."

 

Thor obliges.

 

*****

 

 

As predicted, happiness does not stay unfettered for long.  Thor lives very much in the present moment, but Loki has trouble staying there. A part of Loki worries and flashes forward into possible futures and potential troubles, seeing very clearly the roads that will lead to ruin or prosperity.

 

There is one piece of unfinished business that weighs on Loki until he cannot ignore it anymore. He'll simply end that possibility, he decides, leaving no aspect of his happiness to chance.

 

Once he has made up his mind, Loki moves swiftly.  He dresses simply, in clothes that will not hinder his speed and plans to be gone and back before morning.

 

“You’re leaving,” Thor says.  

 

Loki whirls around, startled by Thor’s presence.  More and more Thor is returning back to himself, back to the fine young warrior who could stealthily move upon any prey.

 

Thor will never be just as he was-- Loki understands this now.  But he will find someplace in between that he will claim as his own.

 

Thor’s mouth is grim line, resigned. He’s standing in the doorway, a hand gripping tightly to the frame and though he keeps his sadness to himself, being left clearly wounds him.

 

“It will be the last time,” Loki says.

 

Thor nods, but looks no less sad.  “I said will not tether you, Loki, and I meant it. Do what you must. I will be here… if you return.”

 

Four quick strides and Loki has Thor in his arms.  “Believe me, I would not play so callously with what I hold most dear,” he says.  “There is a task I have left long overdue.”

 

Thor grips him tightly and says, “Go. I would not hinder you any longer.”

 

Loki kisses him hard, but quickly on the mouth.  “You are not a hindrance. You are my brother, and a fool, but a hindrance to me you are not.”

 

*****

 

The colder temperature greets him like a friend as he appears in the middle of a thick forest, but Loki will not be enamored by this place. The trees are dense, having grown in uneven rows, a forest not of man's making and Loki draws some comfort in that.  As he makes his way through the woodland, Loki understands that he lied to himself.  Through the limbs and foliage, a large estate looms up on the hill on sprawling, well manicured property.  Loki told himself he would go back to the Beaumont Estate to find the files on Thor, the evidence linking Doctor Warren to the crimes he committed against Thor that Tony once insisted they needed to bring the doctor to Midgardian justice.  

 

But as soon as he steps foot on the ward-guarded land and feels his magic draining from him like blood pouring from a wound, Loki knows there is only one thing he can do here and it is not evidence gathering.

 

*****

 

The doctor and his staff have largely ignored his earlier break-in, mostly due to the fact that Thor's internment was off the books.  No additional security measures have been taken to prevent him from gaining entry again.  It's either stupidity or sheer hubris that things have remained exactly the way they are.  Loki slips into the hospital building with greater ease the second time around, and makes his way to the fourth floor unhindered.  

 

The private office is neat and tidy, exactly as Loki remembers it, only this time the doctor is in.

 

“Well,” the doctor says, looking up from his writing pad when Loki opens his door.  “I was wondering if you had survived our encounter, and here you are.  Have you come here to give up Donald?”  His expression is placid and questioning as if he truly cares after his lost patient.

 

“You have too much humor for one who is about to die,” Loki says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Doctor Warren remains seated behind his desk, leaning back in his chair to look up at him.

 

The doctor smiles. “Maybe I _am_ humoring you, Loki,” the doctor says.  “Maybe I am assessing how far _your_ madness goes.”

 

“ _I_ am not the madman here,” Loki insists. The doctor gestures for Loki to sit in the chair opposite his desk, an invitation he ignores as he looks down on this horrid man with contempt.

 

“Consider instead," Doctor Warren begins, "that you have kidnapped an innocent patient, Donald Blake, as a substitute for your brother.”

 

“There is no Donald Blake,” Loki shouts.  “There is only Thor!”

 

“Thor died two years ago, felled by a mutated beast creature in a Wyoming plain that nearly claimed the life of Tony Stark as well," the doctor supplies.  "But you know this already.  Deep down, you know your Thor is dead.”

 

Loki stares at him, his mouth falling open.

 

“You could not handle your brother’s death,” the doctor continues, “for he died without knowing your true feelings for him.  Despite your claims otherwise, you loved him deeply, perhaps more than any brother should. If only he could have known, right Loki? You were unable to cope with what you know to be the truth. You searched for two years and did not find him because _your Thor is dead_.  Instead, you forced your delusion on a person who was already susceptible to suggestion.  Donald has an unstable mind and did eventually breakdown under the strain of your duress.  Of course he would tell you he is Thor.  Why else would you come back here if you do not unconsciously seek my help for the mess you have created?”

 

Loki takes a step backward, horrified by Doctor Warren's words, and then he laughs, throwing his head back and letting out a howl.  

 

“Oh, I _see,”_ Loki says, trembling with rage.  “You are a truly gifted liar.  I understand now just how you hurt him, how you used bits of truth to wedge your way inside and lies to tear him apart.”  For a moment he understands the weight of such torment, how the years spent living under lies that twined with real fears could bend and break and warp a person.  His heart aches for Thor anew, his rage at Doctor Warren replenished.

 

The doctor smiles back, dropping his ruse of concerned psychiatrist.  “No," he says wickedly, "I don’t think you have any idea about the ways in which I broke your brother.”

 

At these words, Loki suppresses a shiver, for the sheer delighted malice in them turns his blood cold.  Doctor Warren is unperturbed, as relaxed as if Loki is one of his staff come in to shoot the breeze. He is not the least bit afraid of Loki.

 

 _"Why?"_ Loki hisses.  "Why do this to a person? Why do this to Thor?"

 

"To see if I could,” the doctor replies. "It's quite the challenge, is it not? Subjugating a god, convincing him he's not one, making him mine. I wanted Thor to worship me. I wanted to know just how skilled I am. If I conquer a god, then I am one."

 

He grins and Loki is physically repulsed, leaning back as the man leers at him.

 

Loki is too late. He is _far_ too late.  Doctor Warren has already taken his pleasure of Thor.  His enjoyment came from dominating him.

 

“Thor was never a patient.  He was but a pet who needed to be broken and trained.  I can teach you if you like, make him sit and stay for you-- or perhaps you’d like him to perform other tricks, perhaps you’d like him to lie down and roll over.”

 

Loki sees red, and his suppressed magic causes his face to flush.

 

"Taught him that one on your own, did you?" The doctor says with a wink.  He smiles, all teeth, his expression feral, and says, "It was our last trick together, Donald and I. I had him on all fours, a god on his knees for me."

 

Loki snarls, _"Liar!"_

 

"Do you think he would tell you? Give away his last piece of pride? No, he would keep his debasement to himself. Would you have wanted sloppy seconds if you knew?"

 

This vile thing-- It cannot be true. Doctor Warren is baiting him. Thor would have told him if Doctor Warren had indeed raped him.  He would have said… wouldn't he?

 

The doctor wants to out lie the liesmith-- another notch on his skill belt. He wants to destroy Loki as he destroyed Thor. It cannot be true.

 

“You are perverse,” Loki hisses. _"You're a monster."_

 

"Fucking your own brother, and _I'm_ the perverse one?" he jeers. "You think your love is any less abusive? Any less controlling?"

 

“You cannot begin to fathom what Thor and I share,” Loki says.

 

“Ah, but I know him well. Perhaps more intimately than you do,” the doctor replies.  “What a fine specimen he was. It took an entire year to break him down, you know.  With my therapy and the right drug cocktail he became the perfect pet. And after that he was so deliciously docile and unsure. He told me everything.  He trusted me completely. He loved me and sought my approval and affection."

 

"Thor never _loved_ you," Loki hisses. "You abused him and he did what he had to to survive."

 

"Oh, does he love _you_ then?" The doctor hisses. "I'll bet he smiles beautifully as he lets a wicked thing like you touch him.  He told you about his time here,” Doctor Warren says.  “But did he tell you everything? He would come to life in my grasp, taking pleasure from my touch. Does it madden you to know he was beneath my hands? That he _liked_ it?”

 

Loki snarls like a feral animal.  There are no words for his rage.

 

“By the end he was completely mine. There exists no cage that could hold him forever, save one,” the doctor says.  “The one I designed and he erected himself in his own mind.  He followed my every command, sat there until I came for him. Thor may now be yours physically, but there will always be a part of him in that cage. And that part forever belongs to me. Even when I am dead and gone, he will remain mine for eternity.”

 

The ring of truth in his words makes nausea rise in this throat. Yes, Thor is chained by shackles he cannot touch, but Loki will find a way to unlock those fetters and free Thor once and for all.  He will not be beholden to Doctor Warren forever.

 

“And here you are, the best bait I could have ever hoped for,” Doctor Warren continues.  “ _Donald_ will do whatever I say, and will believe whatever I tell him, if only to keep you safe. He'll be beneath my hands once more."

 

“You mean to use me to lure my brother here,” Loki says and his lips curl up, showing a glint of white teeth.

 

"I thought you much more intelligent," he says. "But you have just given him back to me by walking into your own cage."

 

Snarling, Loki gathers his magic about him.  "You think you are safe here," Loki says.

 

"You have no power here,” Doctor Warren replies.  "You are completely helpless and at my mercy."

 

And Loki has found his weakness-- the doctor’s arrogance is his undoing.  This man cannot conceive that anyone could possibly hurt him in his ward protected estate. Here, he believes himself invincible, he believes his own delusion that he is a god.  And mistakenly he believes that gods are infallible and cannot die.  Loki knows both are untrue.

 

"That is where you are wrong," Loki says as his skin starts to shift to his natural blue.

 

The doctor gapes, "That is not possible! How are you doing that?"

 

"Some magic is too old and too powerful to be bound," Loki says, "like the Allfather's glamour on me."  And it must be true. For some reason, his Aesir facade has remained intact during every encounter with the magic-binding wards.  Loki locks his red-eyed gaze on the doctor. "And this? This is not magic."

 

Though Loki is weakened by being under the wards, he is still far stronger than a human man.  It would take months of exposure and drug therapies to wear him down the way Thor had been. And though his Jotun biology is affected by the wards just as his Aesir form is, he has more than enough power at his disposal to deal with Doctor Warren.

 

The doctor springs to his feet, rushing towards the door, but his attempt at escape is futile for Loki easily blocks his path with a frost of ice.  “You never should have come after us,” he says. “I may have left you here, if you’d stayed away.”

 

The doctor is too shocked think of self preservation and simply gapes at Loki, uncomprehending that he’s made a fatal mistake in toying with Thor and his kin.  He has no weapons here, thinking that no person would dare trespass upon him in his own keep.

 

“Shall I touch you the way you touched Thor?” Loki asks, trailing his fingertips along Doctor Warren’s jaw, his hostile Jotun touch damaging his fragile human skin.

 

The doctor screams in agony as Loki’s frost giant cold spreads across his flesh.  He lifts Doctor Warren by the throat. Whimpering, he paws at Loki’s arms, shaking from a mixture of cold and pain.

 

“For your heinous crimes against Thor, the Crown Prince of Asgard, I, Prince Loki of Asgard, claim recompense on his behalf,” Loki says and he’s never been more gleeful in the fact that Odin never officially renounced him.  “And the price I fear is too great for you to pay.”

 

Doctor Warren struggles and kicks, desperate to free himself from Loki’s icy grasp.

 

But there’s little sport in this. The doctor is no match for Loki, even depowered as he is.  Loki cannot enjoy toying with his prey, for it is too late. The doctor will not last through the torment he deserves, and no amount of his suffering will make Thor whole again.  There is no lesson for this man to learn, no penitence to be had from him.  His evil has been fulfilled, and he is gleeful in that fact.

 

Loki cannot undo the depravity done to Thor no matter how much he makes Doctor Warren scream-- and scream he does.

 

Loki sees his skin split, his blood spilling red, hears his hoarse cries and feels nothing. He's still angry. He's still heartsick. And Thor is still broken.

 

He drops Doctor Warren on the floor and steps back. There is no satisfaction in this.  Every second Loki spends with this man is one he wishes he could reclaim.

 

“You can kill me, God of Mischief,” he gasps, “but Thor will forever live with the memory that he belonged to me.  My Donald will live on, for he will never forget me.  He will close his eyes and see _me_. Hands will touch him and he will imagine them to be _mine_. I will be where you can’t follow, waiting for him always in the dark recesses of his mind, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

 

The doctor smiles, his teeth stained red, and says, “Even _you_ will remember that _I_ took him from you, that for a brief moment he was well and truly--.”

 

Blood splatters and the doctor knows no more.

 

Loki watches as the doctor gapes, knives of ice lodged in his chest and throat, and falls back, writhing like a fish as his blood leaves him. He deserves a thousand years of torture, but in the end Loki cannot stand for this man to be alive for another second.  

 

 

*****

 

Fleeing quickly, Loki escapes the same way he did with Thor, using Doctor Warren's badge to open the stairwell door to the roof.  He doesn't go far, transporting himself into the forest surrounding the estate.

 

Loki can’t get his breathing under control, his chest heaves and he’s trembling, even though he cannot possibly be cold in his Jotun skin. Loki hurries through the forest, with no other purpose than to put as much distance between himself and the hospital as possible.

 

Running as far as his body will allow, he finds himself in a thinning wood where terrain shifts from verdant to rocky and the trees will soon give way to sand and ocean.  His magic is returning, he could change himself back to his Aesir visage, but he doesn’t yet.  

 

He sits on an outcropping of rock an impossibly long time trying to get handle on himself.  The sun starts to set, turning the sky a fiery orange, but he does not truly see it.  His mind is numb and he feel such a sickness inside.  Though Thor is now safe from future attacks, killing Doctor Warren did not help. It did not ease his troubled mind as he hoped it would. It did not erase all the evil done to Thor by that man, and now Doctor Warren's words are in his mind. They will haunt him for years to come.

 

There’s a crack of thunder and then the softest thud behind him and Loki knows without turning that it is Thor.  He doesn't know how Thor knew where he went or where to find him, only that once again he'd given Thor too little credit.  Of course he’d figured out what Loki’s “unfinished business” was.

 

Even after everything, Loki can’t bring himself to turn, still afraid to reveal his monstrous Jotun flesh to his love, and even more afraid to reveal what he’s done.

 

Thor hauls him up by the shoulders, his grip unforgiving and spins him around.  His gaze is that of a warrior, fierce and cunning, his anger unmistakable.  Loki tries to free himself, unsure of what will happen if Thor touches his frozen flesh unprotected, but Thor will not budge.

 

He is furious.

 

“Thor, please understand,” Loki pleads, his words tumbling out in a rush. He licks his lips as he gathers his courage.  “I... I have taken something from you that by all rights should have been yours, I know this,” Loki says.  “I’m not sorry for what I did but I regret that my actions robbed you of this right.”

 

Loki lifts his chin and meets Thor’s blue eyes with his red ones.  “My love,” Loki says.  “My prince— I claimed weregild, which he could not possibly pay, and so only his life’s blood could satisfy... the debt he owed.”

 

"Doctor Warren is dead?" Thor whispers.

 

"Yes," Loki replies.

 

“Then I am too late,” Thor says, closing his eyes.

 

“ _I had to!”_ Loki snarls, suddenly dizzy with frenzied distress.  Had Doctor Warren been right after all?  Are his hooks so far entrenched in Thor that he can never be extricated?  Has Loki done more harm than good by eradicating the source of Thor's trauma?

 

The gamble he took may have been too great a risk, if Thor is not emotionally stable enough to deal with the doctor's demise.  Loki scrambles to defend his actions, getting up in Thor's face.

 

“He confirmed I was right to act on my suspicions!” Loki shouts.  “He took _pride_ in all of the vile acts he committed against you, spoke of all the depravity he was still planning to--.”

 

Thor's grip on his shoulders tightens, and he shakes him hard enough to rattle his jaw closed.

 

 _“Did he harm you?”_ Thor growls, his eyes ablaze.

 

“No, I--,” and that’s all Loki can get out before Thor crushes him to his chest like a precious thing.  In this skin, Thor’s flesh feels hot as he presses his cheek against his throat, and though Thor trembles, it is not from the cold.

 

“Thank the Norns,” Thor whispers, and Loki realizes then that Thor is not angry with him, his ire is actually fear, fear of what his abuser might do with Loki in his clutches.

 

“You came to aid me,” Loki says, dumbfounded.  “You came back to your prison because you feared he would hurt me the way he hurt you...”

 

“Do not take offense,” Thor says.  He pulls back a little to look him in the eyes.  “I mean no slight to you or your abilities.  I did not think anyone could damage me as he did… but he did, and in ways that I worry may be permanent.  I would be an unlearned fool if I did not admit I was afraid of what he is capable of, of what he would do to my most beloved.”

 

"Thor, he said--," Loki begins, gripping him by the arms.  "Doctor Warren said he had..." His mouth goes dry. "He claimed he'd succeeded in... in raping you."

 

"Lies," Thor says immediately. "I promise you he did not."

 

"It would change nothing between us if he had," Loki replies. "You can tell me."

 

"I am telling you," Thor says. "I have already confessed to you all that was done to me.  He… hurt me and abused me, but he never had the chance to fulfill that last desire. This is what Doctor Warren does-- he lies just enough to place uncertainty in your mind.  He said such things to you because he knew you feared they were so. He uses fear to control you."  

 

"There are no words for his depravity," Loki whispers. "What he did to you-- what he still wanted--."

 

"He cannot harm me anymore," Thor says. "Nor anyone else, thanks to you, Loki."

 

Thor's eyes leave his, traveling down his exposed line of blue throat, looking him over up and down with something akin to wonder, as if he just now noticed that his brother was red-eyed and blue skinned.

 

“Stop that,” Loki says, drawing back. “Don’t stare at me.”  In some ways, he feels more exposed in his biological skin than he does when completely naked.  Loki is still not entirely comfortable with what he truly is, though admittedly he has not had much time to get used to the idea, not when he thought he was aesir for hundreds of years.

 

"I am sorry. I did not mean to stare, but I have never seen you in this form," Thor replies.  “Mother told me… but I did not know what to expect.” He reaches for Loki's hand, examining the blue flesh marked with elegant whorls between his two pink hands, before bringing Loki’s hand to his lips, kissing the back gently.  

 

"Your skin is cold," Thor says with a grin. Loki can feel his whiskers brushing against skin as he smiles.

 

"I _am_ a frost giant, or did you conveniently forget?" Loki says, pulling his hand away.  "Of course my skin is cold."

 

"But it does not burn me," Thor says.  “I thought… well, I thought it would.”

 

“I suppose it is because I do not wish to harm you,” Loki says.  “I think the burning touch is a biological defense mechanism.”  He doesn’t actually know himself.  

 

“I have much to learn about the Jotun,” Thor says.  “Especially since I am in love with one.”

 

Loki rolls his eyes and makes a noise of disgust, but does not let his disdain for obvious sentiment curtail his desire to pull Thor close, and he cannot quite hide the traces of a smile ghosting his lips.  He steps into Thor’s space, putting his hands on his waist, tugging him near.  

 

Thor does not touch him, but cants his head towards him, letting out a sigh.

 

“Are you angry with me, Thor?" Loki asks softly.

 

"A little," Thor says. "What he might have done to you-- I dare not think on it.”

 

"He would have stopped at nothing to have you as his," Loki says. "He told me as much and I killed him for it.  I could not protect you once.  I will never let that happen again… Are you upset that I killed him?” Loki asks.

 

“It cannot be undone,” Thor replies.   

 

“You would have spared him,” Loki retorts.  “You are too noble."

 

"I am not so certain of that,” Thor says.  “I am changed. By his hand I am changed. I do not know what I would have done, if I would have stayed the blade of the axe or taken the swing myself.  It is strange to confess, but I feel conflicted,” Thor says.  “I do not take pleasure from his death. I do not feel glad. I feel nothing.  A part of me is still beholden to his rule and that part does not know what to do with him gone."

 

Loki swallows thickly, worry jittering across his insides.  In his heart, he knows he did what was right for himself, but he still does not know if it was right for Thor.

 

"Yet another part of me rejoices, knowing how deeply I am loved,” Thor says.  He sweeps his hand down the side of Loki’s face, fitting his fingers behind his neck.  "I am thankful for that."

 

Loki leans into him, enjoying the burn of his touch on his Jotun skin.  Once again, he marvels at Thor's capacity to love, to so easily choose to live in the happy moments.

 

“Let us go from here,” Thor says.  “I should never like to return.”

 

“I am weak still from the wards, but if you give me a moment--.” Loki is cut off by Thor who snags him one handed around the waist, pulling him to his hip.  

 

“Hold tight to me,” Thor says, already swinging Mjolnir.  Loki puts his arms around Thor’s neck and holds on.  

 

*****

 

 

In the weeks that follow Doctor Warren’s death, many more cases of maltreatment are brought to light and Beaumont Psychiatric Hospital comes under close scrutiny.  The latest theory on his murder is that a patient stabbed the doctor and escaped the hospital using the doctor’s own badge to unlock the doors.  But there’s no way to know for certain because there are several dozen hospital records missing and an inaccurate account of patients currently residing in the vast estate, thanks in part to the doctor’s preference for old-fashioned paper file keeping.

 

But the Avengers have their own theories as to what happened.  Loki feigns innocence which no one believes, but cannot prove otherwise.  

 

Thor does not lie when Steve question him about it. “I did not witness it,” Thor says. “I did not even see so much as a photograph of the body.”  Steve wisely does not press him for more information.  

 

And though Thor loves Midgardians, and especially his friends, there is nothing that anyone can say that will make him find justice for Doctor Warren.

 

Protective like a mother bear, Loki keeps the others away from Thor as best he can, to attempt to triage the situation, wanting a wide berth between Thor and circumstances that will trigger his panic attacks.  It cost Thor to go back to Beaumont. Simply breathing the same air, knowing he was a scant distance away from his torture chamber was enough for his nightmares to return, ripping the thunder god from slumber on a nightly basis with all the subtlety of a stampeding bilgesnipe.

 

So it surprises Loki when Thor comes up behind him one day, wrapping his large arms wholly around him and says, “Let’s go someplace.  Let’s explore another part of this realm.” He lays his chin on Loki’s shoulder, his blond hair falling into his face.

 

“You mean you want to travel? Away from New York?” Loki asks.  “Do you think it wise to stray from your routine?”

 

“Perhaps not,” Thor says.  “But when have I ever been wise?  If you are with me, then I will be well.  Would you like to wander through Midgard with me?”

 

Loki tries very hard to keep his features blank as he says, “Fine, but I get to choose the locales.”

 

“I don’t care where we go,” Thor says. “As long as I can have you in my arms.” And suddenly, Thor pulls Loki back against him, raising him off the ground as he smothers his face with kisses.  

 

“Stop that, you great oaf!” Loki demands with a long-suffering tone, but he smiles madly at his brother’s great show of affection and makes no move to hinder his endearments.  

 

 

*****

 

On their last day in the tower, Thor retrieves the bottle of dandelion wine from the closet and uncorks it with a gentle pop.  Loki smiles and conjures two glasses.

 

They are all packed-- ready to take a sojourn around Midgard and possibly off world, if Thor feels up to it.  

 

Thor has decided to leave the Avengers for a while, take some time to regroup and to get to know his brother better.  It’s approaching one year since Loki recovered Thor from imprisonment in the mental hospital, and Thor is doing really well, if at times he has rough patches.

 

“What a fine day that was,” Thor says, taking a sip from the glass, remembering the afternoon he spent gathering flowers with Loki in Central Park.  “Mostly.”

 

Loki hums in agreement, pulling Thor into an embrace, his first taste of the wine he made from Thor’s lips, and that, he thinks, is as it should be.

 

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to note that the titles to all the chapters (see me, feel me, touch me, heal me) are lyrics from a rock opera called [_Tommy_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tommy_%28album%29), about a boy who has a traumatic experience and his mind protects him by becoming deaf, dumb and blind (if you want to give it a listen, I recommend the version from the [Live at Leeds Album](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEcFeNTWSB8&t=73m37s) where the performance by The Who is at it’s most powerful and heartfelt-- particularly the way Roger sings the “see me, feel me” part).
> 
> This story. It’s been a long time in writing and getting it out to you. I think I first had inklings of this notion as far back as 2012. A lot of time, effort, research and exploration went into this story. If you are reading these words, then I thank you for sticking with it and being patient with me as I grapple with this immense idea.
> 
> If you are interested in hearing more about the behind the scenes of this story, author ramblings and possibly [more art based around this fic](http://griseldajane.tumblr.com/tagged/fic:-Mad-Man) (because I’m pretty sure I’ll need to do a few sketches before I am able to completely put this story to rest), then please feel free to follow me over on [tumblr.](http://griseldajane.tumblr.com/)


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